1ijvl\i';'i ,  ,  , '.'.'  I 


immmmmmmnmM''^ 


'  '.■'     'c    '    > 


'i 


^, 


■^-virt!' 


*\j~t  i  1  \  J   J  ' 


;-^ 


^^ 


fi 


.  t-    I  !  n  rs 


-PC  ■  ^  ^ 


^^V>  ,        ^vVlOSANCflfr^         ^OFCALIFC  ^-OF-O 


g) 


q: 


>i  .-^ 


■o" 


-dilVJ-iU  '  'uUillVJ-iVj 


>/, 


^.r       i?  ^. 


•'j^iAii^liJiV--'  •^OAav^iiiiiiV^        ^^Aiivaiiii- 


FRX^ 

^VOSAUr 

-n 

O 

^^WEUNH 

^lOSAN^ 

-^ 

IP- 

^>^^ 

'■%13DNVS01^'^" 

''•/AaiAiNn-] 

^ 

>- 

^VvHIBRARYO^, 

r-n 

f 

i^a3AINn-3\\v-  '-^^(i/OJIlVJJO-^        ■^^<!/0JnV3-: 


'^Ok., >      ^<?Aavaan 


-3  ~T  O  Li_ 

.  ^W^EUNIVERi//^  ,,.,;.El 


MARIE 


TALES    FROM    FOREIGN    LANDS. 


UNIFORM    IN    STYLE    AND    PRICE. 
♦ 

I. 

Memories :  A  Story  of  German  Love.    Translated  from 

the  German  of  Max  Muller,  by  Geo.  P.  Upton.     i6mo, 
173  pages,  gilt  top. 

II. 
Graziella:   A  Story  of  Italian  Love.    Translated  from 

the  French  of  A.  dk  Lamartine,  by  James  B.  Runnion, 
i6mo,  235  pages,  gilt  top. 

III. 

Marie:  A  Story  of  Russian  Love.  From  the  Russian 
of  Alexander  Pushkin,  by  Marie  H.  de  Zielinska. 
i6mo,  210  pages,  gilt  top. 

IV. 

Madeleine:  A  Story  of  French  Love.  Translated  from 
the  French  of  Jules  Sandeau,  by  Francis  Charlot. 
i6mo,  244  pages,  gilt  top. 

V. 

Marianela :  A  Story  of  Spanish  Love.  Translated  from 
the  Spanish  of  B.'Pei.ez  G.\ldus,  by  Helen  W.  Lester. 
i6mo,  243  pages,  gilt  top. 

VI. 

CoTiBin  Phillis :   A  Story  of  English  Love.    By  Mrs. 

Gaskell.     i6mo,  222  pages,  gilt  top. 


MARIE: 


A    STORY   OF    RUSSIAN    LOVE. 


FROM   THE    RUSSIAN 

OF 

ALEXANDER    PUSHKIN. 

BY 

MARIE    H.    DE    ZIELINSKA. 


CHICAGO: 

A.    C.    McCLURG     &     COMPANY. 

1893- 


jt 


Copyright. 
JANSEN,    McCLURG    &  CO. 

A.     D  .  ,     I  8  76. 


>  /f 


CONTENTS. 


I.  The  Sergeant  of  the  Guards,      .  13 

II.  The  Guide, 31 

III.  The  Fortress, 49 

IV.  The  Duel,       6^ 

V.  Love, 79 

VI.    POUGATCHEFF, 93 

VII.  The  Assault, 113 

VIII.  The  Unexpected  Visit,   .     .     .     .127 

IX.  The  Separation, 141 

X.  The  Siege, 149 

XI.  The  Rebel  Camp,     .....  i6t 

XII.  Marie, 177 

XIII.  The  Arrest, 187 

XIV.  The  Sentence, 195 


.r'Njr'^  I 


TRANSLATOR'S    NOTE. 


TRANSLATOR'S    NOTE. 


ALEXANDER  PUSHKIN,  the  most  distin- 
guished poet  of  Russia,  was  born  at  Saint 
Petersburg,  1799.  When  only  twenty-one  years 
of  age  he  entered  the  civil  service  in  the  depart- 
ment of  foreign  affairs.  Lord  Byron's  writings  and 
efforts  for  Greek  independence  exercised  great 
influence  over  Pushkin,  whose  "Ode  to  Liberty" 
cost  him  his  freedom.  He  was  exiled  to  Bessara- 
bia from  1820  to  1825,  whence  he  returned  at  the 
accession  of  the  new  emperor,  Nicholas,  wlio 
made  him  historiographer  of  Peter  the  Great. 
Pushkin's  friends  now  looked  upon  him  as  a 
traitor  to  the  cause  of  liberty.  It  is  not  improba- 
ble that  an  enforced  residence  at  the  mouth  of 
the  Danube  somewhat  cooled  his  patriotic  en- 
thusiasm. Every  Autumn,  his  favorite  season 
for  literary  production,  he  usually  passed  at  his 

9 


lo  TRANSLATOR'S  NOTE. 

country  seat  in  the  province  of  Pekoff.  Here 
from  1825  to  1829  he  published  "  Pultowa," 
"  Boris  Godunoff,"  "  Eugene  Onegin,"  and 
"  Ruslaw  and  Ludmila,"  a  tale  in  verse,  after  the 
manner  of  Ariosto's  "Orlando  Furioso."  This 
is  considered  as  the  first  great  poetical  work  in 
the  Russian  language,  though  the  critics  of  the 
day  attacked  it,  because  it  was  beyond  their 
grasp;  but  the  public  devoured  it. 

In  1 83 1  Pushkin  married,  and  soon  after 
appeared  his  charming  novel,  "  Marie,"  a  picture 
of  garrison  life  on  the  Russian  plains.  Peter 
and  JMarie  of  this  Northern  story  are  as  pure  as 
their  native  snows,  and  whilst  listening  to  the 
recital,  we  inhale  the  odor  of  the  steppe,  and 
catch  glimpses  of  the  semi-barbarous  Kalmouk 
and  the  Cossack  of  the  Don. 

A  duel  with  his  brother-in-law  terminated  the 
life  of  Pushkin  in  the  splendor  of  his  talent. 
The  emperor  munificently  endowed  the  poet's 
family,  and  ordered  a  superb  edition  of  all  his 
works  to  be  published  at  the  expense  of  the 
crown.  His  death  was  mourned  by  his  country-- 
raen  as  a  national  calamity.  M.  H.  de  Z. 

Chicago,  Nov.  i,  1876. 


MARIE 


MARI  E. 


THE    SERGEANT    OF    THE    GUARDS. 


MY  father,  Andrew  Peter  Grineff,  having 
served  in  his  youth  under  Count  Munich, 
left  the  army  in  17 — ,  with  the  grade  of  First 
Major.  From  that  time  he  lived  on  his  estate 
in  the  Principality  of  Simbirsk,  where  he  mar- 
ried Avoditia,  daughter  of  a  poor  noble  in  the 
neighborhood.  Of  nine  children,  the  issue  of 
this  marriage,  I  was  the  only  survivor.  My 
brothers  and  sisters  died  in  childhood. 

Through  the  favor  of  a  near  relative  of  ours, 

Prince  B ,  himself  a  Major  in  the  Guards,  I 

was  enrolled  Sergeant  of  the  Guards  in  the  regi- 
es 


14  MARIE  : 

ment  of  Semenofski.  It  was  understood  that 
I  was  on  furlough  till  my  education  should  be 
finished.  From  my  fifth  year  I  was  confided  to 
the  care  of  an  old  servant  Saveliitch,  whose 
steadiness  promoted  him  to  the  rank  of  my  per- 
sonal attendant.  Thanks  to  his  care,  when  I 
was  twelve  years  of  age  I  knew  how  to  read  and 
write,  and  could  make  a  correct  estimate  of  the 
points  of  a  hunting  dog. 

At  this  time,  to  complete  my  education,  my 
father  engaged  upon  a  salary  a  Frenchman,  M. 
Beaupre,  who  was  brought  from  Moscow  with 
one  year's  provision  of  wine  and  oil  from  Pro- 
vence. His  arrival  of  course  displeased  Save- 
liitch. 

Beaupre  had  been  in  his  own  country  a  valet, 
in  Prussia  a  soldier,  then  he  came  to  Russia 
to  be  a  tutor,  not  knowing  very  well  what  the 
word  meant  in  our  language.  He  was  a  good 
fellow,  astonishingly  gay  and  absent-minded. 
His  chief  foible  was  a  passion  for  the  fair  sex. 
Nor  was  he,  to  use  his  own  expression,  an  enemy 


A    STOIiY  OF  A'USS/AiV  LOVE.  15 

to  the  bottle — that  is  to  say,  a  la  Ritsse,  he  loved 
drink.  But  as  at  home  wine  was  offered  only  at 
table,  and  then  in  small  glasses,  and  as,  more- 
over, on  these  occasions,  the  servants  passed  by 
the  pedagogue,  Beaupre  soon  accustomed  him- 
self to  Russian  brandy,  and,  in  time,  preferred  it, 
as  a  better  tonic,  to  the  wines  of  his  native  coun- 
try. We  became  great  friends,  and  although 
according  to  contract  he  was  engaged  to  teach 
me  French,  German,  and  all  the  sciences,  yet  he 
was  content  that  I  should  teach  him  to  chatter 
Russian.  But  as  each  of  us  minded  his  own 
business,  our  friendship  was  constant,  and  I  de- 
sired no  other  mentor.  Hou'ever,  destiny  very 
soon  separated  us,  in  consequence  of  an  event 
which  I  will  relate. 

Our  laundress,  a  fat  girl  all  scarred  by  small- 
pox, and  our  dairymaid,  who  was  blind  of  an 
eye,  agreed,  one  fine  day,  to  throw  themselves  at 
my  mother's  feet  and  accuse  the  Frenchman  of 
trifling  with  their  innocence  and  inexperience  ! 

My  mother  would  have  no  jesting  upon  this 


1 6  MARIE. 


point,  and  she  in  turn  complained  to  my  father, 
who,  like  a  man  of  business,  promptly  ordered 
"  that  dog  of  a  Frenchman  "  into  his  presence. 
The  servant  infoimed  him  meekly  that  Beaupre 
was  at  the  moment  engaged  giving  me  a  les- 
son. 

My  father  rushed  to  my  room.  Beaupre  was 
sleeping  upon  his  bed  the  sleep  of  innocence. 
I  was  deep  in  a  most  interesting  occupation. 
They  had  brought  from  Moscow,  for  me,  a  geo- 
graphical map,  which  hung  unused  against  the 
wall ;  the  width  and  strength  of  its  paper  had 
been  to  me  a  standing  temptation.  I  had  deter- 
mined to  make  a  kite  of  it,  and  profiting  that 
morning  by  Beaupre's  sleep,  I  had  set  to  work. 
My  father  came  in  just  as  I  was  tying  a  tail  to 
the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  !  Seeing  my  work,  he 
seized  me  by  the  ear  and  shook  me  soundly ; 
then  rushing  to  Beaupre's  bed,  awakened  him 
without  hesitating,  pouring  forth  a  volley  of  abuse 
upon  the  head  of  the  unfortunate  Frenchman. 
In  his  confusion  Beaupre  tried  in  vain  to  rise ; 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  17 

the  poor  pedagogue  was  dead  drunk!  My  father 
caught  him  by  the  coat-collar  and  flung  him  out 
of  the  room.  That  day  he  was  dismissed,  to  the 
inexpressible  delight  of  Saveliitch. 

Thus  ended  my  education.  I  now  lived  in  the 
family  as  the  eldest  son,  not  of  age,  whose  career 
is  yet  to  open;  amusing  myself  teaching  pigeons 
to  tumble  on  the  roof,  and  playing  leap-frog  in 
the  stable-yard  with  the  grooms.  In  this  way  I 
reached  my  sixteenth  year. 

One  Autumn  day,  my  mother  was  preserving 
fruit  with  honey  in  the  family  room,  and  I,  smack- 
ing my  lips,  was  looking  at  the  liquid  boiling; 
my  father,  seated  near  the  window,  had  just 
opened  the  Court  Almanac  which  he  received 
every  year.  This  book  had  great  influence  over 
him;  he  read  it  with  extreme  attention,  and  the 
reading  prodigiously  stirred  up  his  bile.  My 
mother,  knowing  by  heart  all  his  ways  and  oddi- 
ties, used  to  try  to  hide  the  miserable  book, 
and  often  whole  months  would  pass  without  a 
sight  of  it.  But,  in  revenge,  whenever  he  did 
2 


1 8  MARIE: 

happen  to  find  it,  he  would  sit  for  hours  with 
the  book  before  his  eyes. 

Well,  my  father  was  reading  the  Court  Almanac, 
frequently  shrugging  his  shoulders,  and  murmur- 
ing :  "  '  General ! '  Umph,  he  was  a  sergeant  in 
my  company.  '  Knight  of  the  Orders  of  Russia.' 
Can  it  be  so  long  since  we .''  " 

Finally  he  flung  the  Almanac  away  on  the  sofa 
and  plunged  into  deep  thought;  a  proceeding  that 
never  presaged  anything  good. 

"Avoditia,"  said  he,  brusquely,  to  my  mother, 
"  how  old  is  Peter.''  " 

"  His  seventeenth  precious  year  has  just  be- 
gun," said  my  mother.  "  Peter  was  born  the  year 
Aunt  Anastasia  lost  her  eye,  and  that  was " 

"  Well,  well,"  said  my  father,  "  it  is  time  he 
should  join  the  army.  It  is  high  time  he  should 
give  up  his  nurse,  leap-frog  and  pigeon  training." 

The  thought  of  a  separation  so  affected  my 
poor  mother  that  she  let  the  spoon  fall  into  the 
preserving  pan,  and  tears  rained  from  her  eyes. 

As  for  me,  it  is  difficult  to  express  my  joy.    The 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  19 

idea  of  army  service  was  mingled  in  my  head 
with  that  of  liberty,  and  the  pleasures  offered  by 
a  great  city  like  Saint  Petersburg.  I  saw  myself 
an  officer  in  the  Guards,  which,  in  my  opinion 
was  the  height  of  felicity. 

As  my  father  neither  liked  to  change  his  plans, 
nor  delay  their  execution,  the  day  of  my  depart- 
ure was  instantly  fixed.  That  evening,  saying 
that  he  would  give  me  a  letter  to  my  future 
chief,  he  called  for  writing  materials. 

"  Do  not  forget,  Andrew,"  said  my  mother,  "  to 
salute  for  me  Prince  B.  Tell  him  that  I  depend 
upon  his  favor  for  my  darling  Peter." 

*'  What  nonsense,"  said  my  father,  frowning, 
"  why  should  I  write  to  Prince  B.  ?  " 

"  You  have  just  said  that  you  would  write  to 
Peter's  future  chief." 

"  Well,  what  then  ?  " 

"  Prince  B.  is  his  chief.  You  know  very  well 
that  Peter  is  enrolled  in  the  Semenofski  regi- 
ment." 

"Enrolled!     What's  that   to    me?     Enrolled 


20  MARIE : 


or  not  enrolled,  he  shall  not  go  to  Saint  Peters- 
burg. What  would  he  learn  there?  Extrava- 
gance and  folly.  No!  let  him  serve  in  the  army, 
let  him  smell  powder,  let  him  be  a  soldier  and 
not  a  do-nothing  in  the  Guards;  let  him  wear  the 
straps  of  his  knapsack  out.  Where  is  the  certifi- 
cate of  his  birth  and  baptism  ?  " 

My  mother  brought  the  certificate,  which  she 
kept  in  a  little  box  with  my  baptismal  robe,  and 
handed  it  to  my  father.  He  read  it,  placed  it 
before  him  on  the  table,  and  commenced  his 
letter. 

I  was  devoured  by  curiosity.  Where  am  I 
going,  thought  I,  if  not  to  Saint  Petersburg.''  I 
did  not  take  my  eyes  from  the  pen  which  my 
father  moved  slowly  across  the  paper. 

At  last,  the  letter  finished,  he  put  it  and  my 
certificate  under  the  same  envelope,  took  off  his 
spectacles,  called  me  and  said : 

"This  letter  is  addressed  to  Andrew  Karlo- 
vitch,  my  old  friend  and  comrade.  You  are 
going  to  Orenbourg  to  serve  under  orders." 


A    SrORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  21 

All  my  brilliant  dreams  vanished.  In  place  of 
the  gay  life  of  Saint  Petersburg,  ennui  awaited  me 
in  a  wild  and  distant  province  of  the  empire. 
Military  life  seemed  now  a  calamity. 

The  next  morning  a  kibitka  was  at  the  door ; 
my  trunk  was  placed  on  it,  and  also  a  case 
holding  tea  and  a  tea-service,  with  some  napkins 
full  of  rolls  and  pastry,  the  last  sweetbits  of  the 
paternal  home.  Both  my  parents  gave  me  their 
solemn  benediction.  My  father  said,  "Adieu, 
Peter.  Serve  faithfully  him  to  whom  your  oath 
is  given ;  obey  your  chiefs ;  neither  seek  favor, 
nor  solicit  service,  but  do  not  reject  them  ;  and 
remember  the  proverb :  '  Take  care  of  thy  coat 
whilst  it  is  new,  and  thy  honor  whilst  it  is 
fresh.'  " 

My  darling  mother,  all  in  tears,  told  me  to 
take  care  of  my  health  ;  and  counseled  Saveliitch 
to  guard  her  child  from  danger. 

I  was  wrapped  up  in  a  short  touloup  lined 
with  hare-skin,  and  over  that  a  pelisse  lined  with 
fox-skin.     I   took  my  seat  in  the  kibitka  with 


22  MARIE: 


Saveliitch,  and  shedding  bitter  tears,  set  out  for 
my  destination. 

That  night  I  arrived  at  Simbirsk,  where  I  was 
to  stay  twenty-four  hours,  in  order  that  Saveliitch 
might  make  various  purchases  entrusted  to  him. 
Early  in  the  morning  Saveliitch  went  to  the 
shops,  whilst  I  stayed  in  the  inn.  Tired  of 
gazing  out  of  the  window  upon  a  dirty  little 
street,  I  rambled  about  the  inn,  and  at  last 
entered  the  billiard-room.  I  found  there  a  tall 
gentleman,  some  forty  years  of  age,  with  heavy 
black  moustaches,  in  his  dressing-gown,  holding 
a  cue  and  smoking  his  pipe.  He  was  playing 
with  the  marker,  who  was  to  drink  a  glass  of 
brandy  and  water  if  he  gained,  and  if  he  lost 
was  to  pass,  on  all-fours,  under  the  billiard  table. 
I  watched  them  playing.  The  more  they  played 
the  more  frequent  became  the  promenades  on  all- 
fours,  so  that  finally  the  marker  stayed  under 
the  table.  The  gentleman  pronounced  over  him 
some  energetic  expression,  as  a  funeral  oration, 
and  then  proposed  that  I  should  play  a  game 


A    STORY   OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  23 

with  him.  I  declared  that  I  did  not  know  how 
to  play  billiards.  That  seemed  strange  to  him. 
He  looked  at  me  with  commiseration. 

However,  we  opened  a  conversation.  I  learned 
that  his  name  was  Ivan  Zourine;  that  he  was 
chief  of  a  squadron  of  Hussars,  stationed  then 
at  Simbirsk  recruiting  soldiers,  and  that  his 
quarters  were  at  my  inn.  He  invited  me  to  mess 
with  him,  soldier-fashion,  pot-luck.  I  accepted 
with  pleasure,  and  we  sat  down  to  dinner. 
Zourine  drank  deeply,  and  invited  me  to  drink 
also,  saying  that  I  must  become  accustomed  to 
the  service.  He  told  stories  of  garrison  life 
which  made  me  laugh  till  I  held  my  sides,  and 
we  rose  from  the  table  intimate  friends.  He 
then  proposed  to  teach  me  how  to  play  billiards. 
"It  is,"  said  he,  "indispensable  for  soldiers  like 
ourselves.  For  example,  suppose  we  arrive  in  a 
town,  what's  to  be  done  ?  We  can  not  always 
make  sport  of  the  Jews.  As  a  last  resort  there 
is  the  inn  and  the  billiard-room  ;  but  to  play 
billiards,  one  must  know  how."    These  reasons 


24  MARIE : 


convinced  me,  and  I  set  about  learning  with 
enthusiasm. 

Zourine  encouraged  me  in  a  loud  tone;  he 
was  astonished  at  my  rapid  progress,  and  after  a 
few  lessons  he  proposed  to  play  for  money,  were 
it  only  two  kopecks,  not  for  the  gain,  merely  to 
avoid  playing  for  nothing,  which  was,  according 
to  him,  a  very  bad  habit.  I  agreed.  Zourine 
ordered  punch,  which  he  advised  me  to  taste  in 
order  to  become  used  to  the  service,  "  for,"  said 
he,  "  what  kind  of  service  would  that  be  without 
punch  ?" 

I  took  his  advice,  and  we  continued  to  play ; 
the  more  I  tasted  of  my  glass  the  bolder  I  grew. 
I  made  the  balls  flyover  the  cushions;  I  was 
angry  with  the  marker  who  was  counting. 
Heaven  knows  why.  I  increased  the  stake,  and 
behaved,  altogether,  like  a  boy  just  cut  free,  for 
the  first  time,  from  his  mother's  apron-strings. 
The  time  passed  quickly.  At  last,  Zourine 
glanced  at  the  clock,  laid  down  his  cue,  and  said 
that  I  had  lost  a  hundred  roubles  to  him. 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  25 

I  was  in  great  confusion,  because  my  money 
was  all  in  the  hands  of  Saveliitch.  I  began  to 
mumble  excuses, when  Zourine  exclaimed,  "Oh! 
well!  Good  God  !  I  can  wait  till  morning;  don't 
be  distressed  about  it.  Now  let  us  go  to  supper." 
What  could  I  do?  I  finished  the  day  as  fool- 
ishly as  I  began  it. 

Zourine  never  ceased  pouring  out  drinks  for 
me ;  advising  me  to  become  accustomed  to  the 
service.  Rising  from  table,  I  could  scarcely 
stand.  At  midnight  Zourine  brought  me  back 
to  the  inn. 

Saveliitch  met  us  at  the  door,  and  uttered  a 
cry  of  horror  when  he  saw  the  unmistakable 
signs  of  my  "  zeal  for  the  service." 

"What  has  happened  to  thee.''"  said  he,  in 
heart-broken  accents;  "where  have  you  been, 
filling  yourself  like  a  sack  ?  Oh  !  heavenly  father! 
a  misfortune  like  this  never  came  before." 

"  Silence !  old  owl,"  said  I,  stammering,  "  I 
am  sure  you  are  drunk  yourself;  go  to  bed,  but 
first  put  me  there." 


26  MARIE . 


I  awoke  next  morning  with  a  severe  headache  ; 
the  events  of  the  evening  I  recalled  vaguely, 
but  my  recollections  became  vivid  at  the  sight 
of  Saveliitch  who  came  to  me  with  a  cup  of  tea. 

"You  begin  young,  Peter  Grineff,"  said  the 
old  man,  shaking  his  head.  "  Eh !  from  whom 
do  you  inherit  it?  Neither  your  father  nor  grand- 
father were  drunkards.  Your  mother's  name 
can  not  be  mentioned ;  she  never  deigned  to 
taste  any  thing  but  cider.  Whose  fault  is  it 
then  ?  That  cursed  Frenchman's ;  he  taught 
thee  fine  things,  that  miserable  dog— that  pagan 
— for  thy  teacher,  as  if  his  lordship,  thy  father, 
had  not  people  of  his  own." 

I  was  ashamed  before  the  old  man ;  I  turned 
my  face  away  saying,  "  I  do  not  want  any  tea, 
go  away,  Saveliitch."  It  was  not  easy  to  stop 
Saveliitch,  once  he  began  to  preach. 

"  Now,  Peter,  you  see  what  it  is  to  play  the 
fool.  You  have  a  headache,  you  have  no  appe- 
tite, a  drunkard  is  good  for  nothing.  Here,  take 
some  of  this  decoction  of  cucumber  and  honey, 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  27 

or  half  a  glass  of  brandy  to  sober  you.  What 
do  you  say  to  that  ?" 

At  that  instant  a  boy  entered  the  room  with  a 
note  for  me  from  Zourine.  I  unfolded  it  and 
read  as  follows: 

"  Do  me  the  favor,  my  dear  Peter,  to  send  me 
by  my  servant  the  hundred  roubles  that  you  lost 
to  me  yesterday.  I  am  horribly  in  want  of 
money.     Your  devoted  Zourine." 

As  I  was  perfectly  in  his  power,  I  assumed 
an  air  of  indifference,  and  ordered  Saveliitch  to 
give  a  hundred  roubles  to  the  boy. 

"What?  why?"  said  the  old  man,  surprised. 

"  I  owe  that  sum,"  said  I,  coolly. 

*'  You  owe  it  ?  When  had  you  time  enough  to 
contract  such  a  debt?"  said  he,  with  redoubled 
astonishment.  "  No,  no,  that's  impossible.  Do 
what  you  like,  my  lord,  but  I  can  not  give  the 
money." 

I  reflected  that  if  in  this  decisive  moment  I 
did  not  oblige  the  obstinate  old  fellow  to  obey 
me,  it   would  be   impossible   in    the    future   to 


2  8  MARIE. 


escape  from  his  tutelage.  Looking  at  him  there- 
fore, haughtily,  I  said,  "  I  am  thy  master  ;  thou 
art  my  servant.  The  money  is  mine,  and  I  lost 
it  because  I  chose  to  lose  it ;  I  advise  thee  to 
obey  when  ordered,  and  not  assume  the  airs  of  a 
master." 

My  words  affected  Sav^liitch  so  much  that  he 
clasped  his  hands  and  stood  bowed  down  mute 
and  motionless. 

"What  are  you  doing  there  like  a  post?"  I 
cried  out,  angrily. 

Saveliitch  was  in  tears. 

"  Oh!  my  dear  master  Peter,"  stammered  he, 
with  a  trembling  voice,  "  do  not  kill  me  with 
grief.  Oh  my  light,  listen  to  me,  an  old  man; 
write  to  that  brigand  that  you  were  jesting,  that 
we  never  had  so  much  money.  A  hundred 
roubles!  God  of  goodness!  Tell  him  thy 
parents  strictly  forbade  thee  to  play  for  any 
thing  but  nuts." 

"Silence,"  said  I,  with  severity,  "give  the 
money  or  I'll  chase  you  out  of  the  room." 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAJSr  LOVE.  29 

Saveliitch  looked  at  me  with  agony,  and  went 
for  the  money.  I  pitied  the  good  old  man,  but  I 
wanted  to  emancipate  myself,  and  prove  that  I 
was  no  longer  a  child.  Saveliitch  sent  the  money 
to  Zourine,  and  then  hastened  our  departure 
from  that  cursed  inn, 

I  left  Simbirsk  with  a  troubled  conscience ;  a 
secret  remorse  oppressed  me.  I  took  no  leave 
of  my  teacher,  not  dreaming  that  I  should  ever 
meet  him  again. 


^^vj 


i/Zrv^. 


10 


II. 


THE    GUIDE. 


MY  reflections  during  the  journey  were  not 
very  agreeable.  According  to  the  value  of 
money  at  that  time  my  loss  was  of  some  import- 
ance. I  could  not  but  admit  to  myself  that  my  con- 
duct at  the  inn  at  Simbirsk  had  been  very  silly, 
and  I  felt  guilty  toward  Saveliitch.  The  old 
man  wa?  seated  on  the  front  of  the  vehicle  in 
dull  silence ;  from  time  to  time  turning  his  head 
and  coughing  a  cough  of  ill  humor.  I  had  firmly 
resolved  to  make  friends  with  him,  but  I  did  not 
know  which  way  to  begin.  At  last  I  said  to  him, 
"  Come,  come   Saveliitch,  let   us  put   an  end  to 

31 


32  MARIE. 


this;  I  know  I  was  wrong;  I  was  a  fool  yester- 
day, and  offended  you  without  cause,  but  I 
promise  to  listen  to  you  in  future.  Come,  do 
not  be  angry,  let  us  make  friends!" 

"  Ah !  my  dear  Peter,"  said  he  with  a  sigh,  "  I 
am  angry  with  myself.  It  is  I  who  was  wrong 
in  every  thing.  How  could  I  have  left  you  alone 
at  the  inn  .''  How  could  it  have  been  avoided  ? 
The  devil  had  a  hand  in  it !  I  wanted  to  go  and 
see  the  deacon's  wife,  who  is  my  god-mother,  and 
as  the  proverb  says :  '  I  left  the  house  and  fell 
into  the  prison.'" 

What  a  misfortune  !  what  a  misfortune !  How 
can  T  appear  before  the  eyes  of  my  masters .'' 
What  will  they  say,  when  they  shall  hear  that 
their  child  is  a  drunkard  and  a  gambler.  To 
console  dear  old  Saveliitch,  I  gave  him  my  word, 
that  for  the  future  I  would  not  dispose  of  a  sin- 
gle kopeck  without  his  consent.  Little  by  little 
he  became  calm,  which  did  not,  however,  prevent 
him  from  grumbling  out,  now  and  then  shaking  his 
head  :     "A  hundred  roubles!  it  is  easy  to  talk!' 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  ^ 

I  drew  near  the  place  of  my  destination. 
Around  me  extended  a  desert,  sad  and  wild, 
broken  by  little  hills  and  deep  ravines,  all  covered 
with  snow.     The  sun  was  setting. 

Mykibitka  followed  the  narrow  road,  or  rather 
trace,  left  by  peasants'  sledges.  Suddenly  my 
coachman,  looking  at  a  certain  point  and  address- 
ing me,  "My  lord,"  said  he,  taking  off  his  cap, 
"  do  you  not  command  us  to  retrace  our  steps?  " 

"What  for.?" 

"The  weather  is  uncertain.  There  is  some 
wind  ahead ;  do  you  see  it  drive  the  snow  on  the 
surface  ? " 

"What  matter?" 

"  And  do  you  not  see  what  is  over  yonder?" 
pointing  with  his  whip  to  the  east. 

"  I  see  nothing  more  than  the  white  steppes 
and  the  clear  sky." 

"  There  !  there  !  that  little  cloud  !  " 

I  saw  inde^'d  upon  the  horizon  a  little  white 
cloud  that  I  had  at  first  taken  for  a  distant  hill. 
My  coachman  explained  to  me  that  this  little 
3 


34  MARIE. 


cloud  foretold  a  chasse-neige — a  snowdrift.  I  had 
heard  of  the  drifting  snows  of  this  region,  and  I 
knew  that,  at  times,  storms  swallowed  up  whole 
caravans.  Saveliitch  agreed  with  the  coachman, 
and  advised  our  return. 

But  to  me  the  wind  did  not  seem  very  strong. 
I  hoped  to  arrive  in  time  for  the  next  relay  of 
horses.  I  gave  orders,  therefore,  to  redouble  our 
speed.  The  coachman  put  his  horses  to  the 
gallop,  and  kept  his  eyes  to  the  east. 

The  wind  blew  harder  and  harder.  The  little 
cloud  soon  became  a  great  white  mass,  rising 
heavily,  growing,  extending,  and  finally  invading 
the  whole  sky.  A  fine  snow  began  to  fall,  which 
suddenly  changed  to  immense  flakes.  The  wind 
whistled  and  howled.  It  was  a  chasse-neige — a 
snowdrift. 

In  an  instant  the  somber  sky  was  confounded 
with  the  sea  of  snow  which  the  wind  raised  up 
from  the  earth.  Every  thingwas  indistinguishable. 

"  Woe,  to  us!  my  lord,"  cried  the  coachman, 
"  it  is  a  whirlwind  of  snow !  " 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  35 

I  put  m}' head  out  of  the  kibitka  —  darkness 
and  storm.  The  wind  blew  with  an  expression 
so  ferocious  that  it  seemed  a  living  creature. 

The  snow  fell  in  large  flakes  upon  us,  cover- 
ing us.  The  horses  went  at  a  walking  pace,  but 
very  soon  stood  still. 

'■  Why  do  you  not  go  on  .'*  "  I  said  to  the  coach- 
man. 

"  Go  where  ?  "  he  replied,  as  he  got  down  from 
the  kibitka.  "  God  knows  where  we  are  now ! 
There  is  no  road;  all  is  darkness." 

I  began  to  scold  him.  Saveliitch  took  up  his 
defense : 

"  Why  did  you  not  listen  to  him,"  said  he, 
angrily ;  "  you  could  have  returned,  taken  some 
tea  and  slept  till  morning ;  the  storm  would  have 
been  over,  and  we  could  then  have  set  out.  Why 
this  haste  ?  as  if  you  were  going  to  your  wed- 
ding?" 

Saveliitch  was  right.  What  was  to  be  done  ? 
The  snow  continued  to  fall ;  it  was  heaped  up 
around  the  kibitka;   the  horses  stood  motionless, 


3*5  MARIE  : 


now  and  then  shivering.  The  coachman  walked 
around  them  adjusting  their  harness,  as  if  he  had 
nothing  else  to  do. 

Saveliitch  grumbled. 

I  strained  my  eyes  in  every  direction,  hoping 
to  see  signs  of  a  dwelling,  or  of  a  road,  but  I 
could  only  see  the  whirling  of  the  snow-drift. 
All  at  once  I  thought  I  saw  some  thing  black. 
"  Halloo  !  coachman,"  I  cried  out,  "what  is  that 
black  thing  yonder.'*" 

The  coachman  looked  attentively  where  I 
indicated.  "  God  knows,  my  lord,"  he  replied, 
re-mounting  to  his  seat;  "it  is  not  a  kibitka,  nor 
a  tree ;  it  seems  to  be  moving.  It  must  be  a 
wolf  or  a  man!" 

I  ordered  him  to  go  in  the  direction  of  the 
unknown  object  which  was  coming  toward  us.  In 
two  minutes  we  were  on  a  line  with  it,  and  I 
recognized  a  man. 

"  Halloo!  good  man  !"  shouted  my  coachman  ; 
"  tell  us,  do  you  know  the  road  ?" 

"  This  is  the  road,"  replied  the  man,     "  I  am 


A    STOHY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  37 


on   solid  ground,  but  what  the  devil  is  the  good 
of  that." 

"  Listen,  my  good  peasant,"  said  I;  "do  you 
know  this  country  ?  Can  you  lead  us  to  a  shel- 
ter for  the  night?" 

*'  This  country !  Thank  God,  I  have  been 
over  it  on  foot  and  in  carriage,  from  one  end  to 
the  other.  But  one  can  not  help  losing  the  road 
in  this  weather.  It  is  better  to  stop  here  and 
wait  till  the  hurricane  ceases :  then  the  sky 
will  clear,  and  we  can  find  the  way  by  the 
stars." 

His  coolness  gave  me  courage.  I  had  decid- 
ed to  trust  myself  to  the  mercy  of  God  and 
pass  the  night  on  the  steppe,  when  the  traveler, 
seating  himself  on  the  bench  which  was  the 
coachman's  seat,  said  to  the  driver  : 

"  Thank  God,  a  dwelling  is  near.  Turn  to 
the  right  and  go  on." 

"Why  should  I  turn  to  the  right.?"  said 
the  coachman,  sulkily,  "  where  do  you  see  a 
road  ? " 


38  MARIE. 


"  Must  I  say  to  you  these  horses,  as  well  as 
the  harness,  belong  to  another?  then  use  the 
whip  without  respite." 

I  thought  my  coachman's  view  rational. 

"  Why  do  you  believe,"  said  I  to  the  new- 
comer, "  that  a  dwelling  is  not  far  off.''" 

"  The  wind  blows  from  that  quarter,"  said  he, 
"  and  I  have  smelled  smoke — proof  that  a  dwell- 
ing is  near." 

His  sagacity,  the  delicacy  of  his  sense  of 
smell,  filled  me  with  admiration ;  I  ordered  my 
coachman  to  go  wherever  the  other  wished. 
The  horses  walked  heavily  through  the  deep 
snow.  The  kibitka  advanced  but  slowly  ;  now 
raised  on  a  hillock,  now  descending  into  a  hol- 
low, swaying  from  side  to  side  like  a  boat  on  a 
stormy  sea. 

Saveliitch,  falling  over  on  me  every  instant, 
moaned.  I  pulled  down  the  hood  of  the  kibitka, 
wrapped  myself  up  in  my  pelisse,  and  fell  asleep, 
rocked  by  the  swaying  of  the  vehicle,  and  lulled 
by  the  chant  of  the  tempest. 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  39 


The  hor&es  stopped.  Saveliitch  was  holding 
my  hand. 

"  Come  out,  my  lord,"  said  he,  "  we  have 
arrived." 

"  Where  have  we  arrived  ?"  said  I,  rubbing 
my  eyes. 

"At  the  shelter.  God  has  helped  us;  we 
have  stumbled  right  upon  the  hedge  of  the 
dwelling.  Come  out,  my  lord,  quick ;  come  and 
warm  yourself." 

I  descended  from  the  kibitka;  the  hurricane 
had  not  ceased,  but  it  had  moderated  ;  sight  was 
useless,  it  was  so  dark.  The  master  of  the 
house  met  us  at  the  door,  holding  a  lantern 
under  the  flaps  of  his  long  coat,  the  Cossack 
cafetan.  He  led  us  into  a  small,  though  not 
untidy  room,  lighted  by  a  pine  torch.  In  the 
centre  hung  a  carabine  and  a  high  Cossack  cap. 

Our  host,  a  Cossack  from  the  river  laik,  was  a 
peasant  of  some  sixty  years,  still  fresh  and 
green. 

Saveliitch  brought  in  the  case  containing  my 


40  MARIE: 


tea-service ;  he  asked  for  fire  to  make  me  a  few 
cups  of  tea,  of  which  I  never  had  greater  need. 
The  host  hastened  to  serve  us. 

"Where  is  our  guide?"  I  asked  of  Saveliitch. 

"  Here,  your  lordship,"  replied  a  voice  from 
above.  I  raised  my  eyes  to  the  loft,  and  saw  a 
black  beard  and  two  sparkling  black  eyes. 

"Well,  are  you  cold?" 

"  How  could  I  help  being  cold  in  this  little 
cafetan  full  of  holes.  What's  the  use  of  con- 
cealment? I  had  a  touloup,  but  I  left  it 
yesterday  in  pledge  with  the  liquor-seller;  then 
the  cold  did  not  seem  so  great." 

At  this  moment  our  host  entered  with  the 
portable  furnace  and  boiler,  the  Russian  Samovar. 
I  offered  our  guide  a  cup  of  tea.  Down  he  came 
at  once.  As  he  stood  in  the  glare  of  the  pine 
torch  his  appearance  was  remarkable.  A  man 
about  forty  years  of  age,  medium  height,  slight 
but  with  broad  shoulders.  His  black  beard  was 
turning  grey ;  large,  quick,  restless  eyes,  gave 
him  an  expression  full  of  cunning,  and  yet  not 


A    SrORY   OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  41 

at  all  disagreeable.  He  was  dressed  in  wide 
Tartar  pantaloons  and  an  old  jacket.  His  hair 
was  cut  evenly  round. 

I  offered  him  a  cup  of  tea.  He  tasted  it  and 
made  a  grimace. 

"Do  me  the  favor,  my  lord,  to  order  me  a 
glass  of  brandy;  tea  is  not  the  Cossack's 
drink." 

I  willingly  granted  the  request.  The  host 
took  from  the  shelf  of  a  closet  a  bottle  and  a 
glass,  and  going  up  to  him,  looking  him  full  in 
the  face,  said  : 

"Ah!  ah!  here  you  are  again  in  our  district. 
Whence  has  God  brought  you  ?  " 

My  guide  winked  in  the  most  significant 
fashion  and  replied  by  the  well-known  proverb  : 
"  '  The  sparrow  was  in  the  orchard  eating  flax- 
seed; the  grandmother  threw  a  stone  at  it,  and 
missed.'     And  you  ?  how  are  all  yours  .'*" 

"  How  are  we  ?  "  said  the  host,  and  continuing 
in  proverbs  :  "  '  They  began  to  ring  the  bell  for 
Vespers,  bat  the  priest's  wife  forbade  it.     The 


42  MARIE. 


priest  went  visiting,  and  the  devils  are  in  the 
graveyard.'  " 

"Be  silent,  uncle,"  said  the  vagabond. 

" '  When  there  shall  be  rain,  there  will  be 
mushrooms,  and  when  there  shall  be  mushrooms, 
there  will  be  a  basket  to  put  them  in.  Put 
thy  hatchet  behind  thy  back,  the  forest  guard  is 
out  walking.'  " 

"To  your  lordship's  health."  Taking  the 
glass,  he  made  the  sign  of  the  cross,  and  at  one 
gulp  swallowed  his  brandy.  He  then  saluted 
me  and  remounted  to  his  loft.  I  did  not  under- 
stand a  word  of  this  thief 's  slang.  It  was  only 
in  the  sequel  that  I  learned  that  they  spoke  of 
the  affairs  of  the  army  of  the  laik,  which  had 
just  been  reduced  to  obedience  after  the  revolt 
of  1772.  Saveliitch  listened  and  glanced  sus- 
piciously from  host  to  guide. 

The  species  of  inn  where  we  were  sheltered 
was  in  the  very  heart  of  the  steppes,  far  from 
the  road  and  every  inhabited  spot,  and  looked 
ver>'  much  like  a  rendezvous  for  robbers.     But 


A    STOHY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  43 

to  set  off  again  on  our  journey  was  impossible. 
The  disgust  of  Saveliitch  amused  me  not  a  little  ; 
however,  he  finally  decided  to  mount  upon  the 
roof  of  the  stove,  the  ordinary  bed  of  the  Rus- 
sian peasant.  The  warm  bricks  of  the  hot-air 
chamber  of  the  stove  diffused  a  grateful  heat, 
and  soon  the  old  man  and  the  host,  who  had 
laid  himself  on  the  floor,  were  snoring.  I 
stretched  myself  upon  a  bench,  and  slept  like 
the  dead.  Awaking  next  morning  quite  late,  I 
saw  that  the  hurricane  was  over.  The  sun  shone 
out,  the  snow  extended  in  the  distance  like  a 
sheet  of  dazzling  white  damask.  The  horses 
were  already  at  the  door,  harnessed.  I  paid  our 
host,  who  asked  so  small  a  pittance  that  even 
Saveliitch  did  not,  as  usual,  haggle  over  the 
price.  His  suspicions  of  the  evening  before 
had  entirely  disappeared.  I  called  the  guide  to 
thank  him  for  the  service  he  had  done  us,  and 
told  Saveliitch  to  give  him  half  a  rouble. 
Saveliitch  frowned. 

"  Half  a  rouble,"  said  he ;  "  what  for  ?     Be- 


44  MARIE . 


cause  you  yourself  deigned  to  bring  him  to  the 
inn?  Your  will  be  done,  my  lord,  but  we  have 
not  a  rouble  to  spare.  If  we  begin  by  giving 
drink  money  to  every  one  we  shall  end  by  dying 
of  hunger." 

It  was  useless  to  argue  with  him  ;  my  money, 
according  to  my  promise,  was  entirely  at  his 
discretion.  But  it  was  very  unpleasant  not  to  be 
able  to  reward  a  man  who  had  extricated  me 
from  danger,  perhaps  death. 

"Well,"  said  I,  coolly,  "  if  you  will  not  give 
him  half  a  rouble,  give  one  of  my  coats  —  he  is 
too  thinly  clad;  give  him  the  hare-skin  touloup." 

"Have  mercy  on  me!  My  dear  Peter,"  said 
Saveliitch,  "  what  does  he  want  with  your 
touloup.?  He  will  drink  its  price,  the  dog,  at 
the  first  inn." 

"  That,  my  good  old  man,  is  none  of  your  busi- 
ness," said  the  vagabond;  "his  lordship,  follow- 
ing the  custom  of  royalty  to  vassals,  gives  me  a 
coat  from  his  own  back,  and  your  duty  as  serf 
is  not  to  dispute,  but  to  obey." 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  45 

"You  have  not  the  fear  of  God,  brigand  that  you 
are,"  said  Saveliitch,  angrily ;  "  you  see  that  the 
child  has  not  yet  attained  to  full  reason,  and  there 
you  are,  glad  to  pillage  him,  thanks  to  his  kind 
heart.  You  can  not  even  wear  the  pelisse  on  your 
great,  cursed  shoulders." 

"Come,"  said  I,  "do  not  play  the  logician; 
bring  the  touloup  quickly." 

"  Oh,  Lord!  "  said  the  old  man,  moaning  — 
"a  touloup  of  hare-skin!  quite  new, —  to  give 
it  to  a  drunkard  in  rags." 

It  was  brought,  however,  and  the  vagabond  be- 
gan to  get  into  it.  It  was  rather  tight  for  me,  and 
was  much  too  small  for  him.  He  put  it  on, 
nevertheless,  but  with  great  difficulty,  bursting  all 
the  seams.  Saveliitch  uttered  something  like  a 
smothered  howl,  when  he  heard  the  threads 
crack.  As  for  the  vagabond,  he  was  well  pleased 
with  my  present.  He  re-conducted  me  to  my 
kibitka,  and  said,  with  a  profound  bow :  "  Thanks, 
my  lord,  may  God  reward  you.  I  shall  never 
forget  your  goodness." 


46  MARIE; 

He  went  his  way, — I  set  out  on  mine,  paying 
no  attention  to  the  sullenness  of  Saveliitch.  I 
soon  forgot  the  hurricane  and  the  guide,  as  well 
as  the  touloup  of  hare-skin. 

Arrived  at  Orenbourg,  I  presented  myself  at 
once  to  the  General.  He  was  a  tall  man,  bent 
by  age,  with  long  hair  quite  white.  An  old,  worn- 
out  uniform,  recalled  the  soldier  of  the  times  of 
the  Empress  Anne,  and  his  speech  betrayed  a 
strong  German  accent. 

I  gave  him  my  father's  letter. 

Reading  my  name,  he  glanced  at  me  quickly. 
"  Mein  Gott,"  said  he,  "  it  is  so  short  a  time 
since  Andrew  Grineff  was  your  age,  and  now,  see 
what  a  fine  fellow  of  a  son  he  has.  Ah !  time  ! 
time!"  He  opened  the  letter  and  began  to  run 
it  over  with  a  commentary  of  remarks. 

"  '  Sir,  I  hope  your  Excellency,' What  is 

this;  what  is  the  meaning  of  this  ceremony.'* 
discipline,  of  course  before  all,  but  is  this  the  way 
to  write  to  an  old  friend  ?  Hum '  Field- 
marshal  Munich little  Caroline brother.' 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  47 


Ah!  then  he  remembers '  Now  to  business. 

I  send  you   my  son;   hold  him  with  porcupine 
gloves.' 

"  What  does  that  mean.?"  said  he,  "  that  must 
be  a  Russian  proverb." 

"  It  means,"  said  I,  with  an  air  of  innocence, 
"  to  treat  a  person  mildly,  to  give  one  liberty." 

*'  Hum  !"  said  he,  reading,  '"and  give  him  no 
liberty.'  No,"  he  continued,  "your  proverb 
does  not  mean  liberty.  Well,  my  son,"  said  he, 
having  finished  the  letter,  "  every  thing  shall  be 

done  for  you.    You  shall  be  an  officer  in  the 

regiment,  and  not  to  lose  time,  go  to-morrow  to 
the  fort  of  Belogorsk,  where  you  will  serve 
under  Captain  MironofiF,  a  brave  and  honest 
man.  There  you  will  see  service  and  learn  disci- 
pline. You  have  nothing  to  do  here  at  Oren- 
bourg,  and  amusements  are  dangerous  to  a  young 
man.     To-day  I  invite  you  to  dine  with  me." 

From  bad  to  worse,  thought  I.  What  was  the 
use  of  being  a  Sergeant  in  the  Guards  almost 
from  my  mother's  womb?     To  what  has  it  led.? 


48 


MARIE . 


To  the  regiment  of ,  and  an  abandoned  for- 
tress on  the  frontiers  of  the  steppes ! 

I  dined  at  the  General's  in  company  with  his 
old  Aid-de-camp.  Severe  German  economy 
reigned  at  table,  and  I  think  the  fear  of  having 
an  occasional  guest  the  more  had  something  to 
do  with  sending  me  to  a  distant  garrison. 

The  next  day  I  took  my  leave  of  the  General 
and  set  out  for  Belogorsk. 


III. 


THE     FORTRESS. 


T 


HE  fortress  of  Belogorsk  is  situated  forty 
versts  from  Orenbourg.  The  route  from 
this  city  is  along  the  high  banks  of  the  river 
laik.  The  stream  was  not  yet  frozen,  and  its 
lead-colored  waters  took  a  black  tint  between 
banks  whitened  by  the  snow.  Before  me  lay  the 
Kirghis  steppes.  I  fell  into  a  moody  train  of 
thought,  for  to  me  garrison  life  offered  few  at- 
tractions. I  tried  to  picture  my  future  chief, 
Captain  Mironoff.  I  imagined  a  severe,  morose 
old  man,  knowing  nothing  outside  of  the  service, 
ready  to  arrest  me  for  the  least  slip.  Dusk  was 
falling;  we  were  advancing  rapidly. 

4  49 


50  MARIE. 


"  How  far  is  it  from  here  to  the  fortress? "  said 
I  to  the  coachman. 

"  You  can  see  it  now,"  he  answered. 

I  looked  on  all  sides,  expecting  to  see  high 
bastions,  a  wall,  and  a  ditch.  I  saw  nothing  but 
a  little  village  surrounded  by  a  wooden  palisade. 
On  one  side  stood  some  hay-stacks  half  covered 
with  snow  ;  on  the  other  a  wind-mill,  leaning  to 
one  side;  the  wings  of  the  mill,  made  of  the  heavy 
bark  of  the  linden  tree,  hung  idle. 

"Where  is  the  fortress.'*  "  I  asked,  astonished. 

"  There  it  is,"  said  the  coachman,  pointing  to 
the  village  which  we  had  just  entered.  I  saw 
near  the  gate  an  old  iron  cannon.  The  streets 
were  narrow  and  winding,  and  nearly  all  the  huts 
were  thatched  with  straw.  I  ordered  the  coach- 
man to  drive  to  the  Commandant's,  and  almost 
immediately  my  kibitka  stopped  before  a  wooden 
house  built  on  an  eminence  near  the  church, 
which  was  also  of  wood.  From  the  front  door  I 
entered  the  waiting-room.  An  old  pensioner, 
seated  on  a  table,  was  sewing  a  blue  piece  on  the 


A    STORY   OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  51 

elbow  of  a  green  uniform.    I  told  him  to  announce 
me. 

"  Enter,  my  good  sir."  said  he,  "  our  people  are 
at  home." 

I  entered  a  very  neat  room,  furnished  in  the 
fashion  of  other  days.  On  one  side  stood  a  cabi- 
net containing  the  silver.  Against  the  wall  hung 
the  diploma  of  an  officer,  with  colored  engravings 
arranged  around  its  frame ;  notably,  the  "  Choice 
of  the  Betrothed,"  the  "Taking  of  Kurstrin," 
and  the  "Burial  of  the  Cat  by  the  Mice."  Near 
the  window  sat  an  old  woman  in  a  mantilla,  her 
head  wrapped  in  a  handkerchief.  She  was  wind- 
ing a  skein  of  thread  held  on  the  separated  hands 
of  a  little  old  man,  blind  of  one  eye,  who  was 
dressed  like  an  officer. 

"  What  do  you  desire,  my  dear  sir?  "  said  the 
woman  to  me,  without  interrupting  her  occupa- 
tion. I  told  her  that  I  had  come  to  enter  the 
service,  and  that,  according  to  rule,  I  hastened 
to  present  myself  to  the  captain.  In  saying  this, 
I  turned  to  the  one-eyed  old  man,  whom  I  took 


52  MARIE 


for  the  commandant.  The  good  lady  interrupted 
the  speech  which  I  had  prepared  in  advance : 

"  Ivan  Mironoff  is  not  at  home  ;  he  is  gone  to 
visit  Father  Garasim  ;  but  it  is  all  the  same ;  I 
am  his  wife.  Deign  to  love  us  and  have  us  in 
favor!  Take  a  seat,  my  dear  sir."  She  ordered 
a  servant  to  send  her  the  corporal.  The  little 
old  man  gazed  at  me  curiously,  with  his  only  eye. 

"  May  I  dare  to  ask,"  said  he,  "in  what  regi- 
ment you  have  deigned  to  serve?" 

I  satisfied  him  on  that  point. 

"  And  may  I  dare  to  ask  why  you  changed 
from  the  Guards  to  our  garrison  .-*" 

I  replied  that  it  was  by  the  orders  of  authority. 

"  Probably  for  actions  little  becoming  an  offi- 
cer of  the  Guards?"  resumed  the  persistent 
questioner. 

"Will  you  stop  your  stupidities?"  said  the 
Captain's  wife  to  him.  "You  see  the  young 
man  is  fatigued  by  the  journey ;  he  has  some- 
thing else  to  do  besides  answering  you.  Hold 
your  hands  better!    And  you,  luy  dear  sir,"  con- 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  53 

tinued  she,  turning  to  me,  "  do  not  be  too  much 
afflicted  that  you  are  thrust  into  our  little  town ; 
you  are  not  the  first,  and  will  not  be  the  last. 
Now,  there  is  Alexis  Chabrine,  who  has  been 
transferred  to  us  for  a  term  of  four  years  for 
murder.  God  knows  what  provocation  he  had. 
He  and  a  lieutenant  went  outside  the  city  with 
their  swords,  and  before  two  witnesses  Alexis 
killed  the  heutenant.  Ah!  misfortune  has  no 
master." 

Just  then  the  corporal  entered,  a  young 
and  handsome  Cossack.  "  Maxim,"  said  the 
Captain's  wife,  "  give  this  officer  a  clean  lodg- 
mg. 

"  I  obey,  Basilia,"  replied  the  Cossack ;  "  shall 
I  lodge  him  with  Ivan  Pologoff.^" 

"You  are  doting,  Maxim,  he  has  too  little 
space  now ;  besides,  he  is  my  child's  godfather ; 
and,  moreover,  he  never  forgets  that  we  are  his 
chiefs.     What  is  your  name,  my  dear  sir?" 

"  Peter  Grineff." 

"  Then  conduct  Peter  Grineff  to  the  quarters 


54  MARIE  : 


of  Simeon  Kieff.     That  rascal  let  his  horse  into 
my  vegetable  garden.     Is  all  right,  Maxim  ?" 

"  Thank  God,  all  is  quiet,  except  that  Corpo- 
ral Kourzoff  quarreled  with  the  woman  Augus- 
tina  about  a  pail  of  warm  water." 

"  Ignatius,"  said  the  Captain's  wife  to  the  one- 
eyed  man,  "judge  between  the  two — decide 
which  one  is  guilty,  and  punish  both.  Go,  Max- 
im, God  be  with  you.  Peter  Grineff,  Maxim 
will  conduct  you  to  your  lodgings." 

I  took  my  leave ;  the  corporal  led  me  to  a 
cabin  placed  on  the  high  bank  near  the  river's 
edge,  at  the  end  of  the  fortress.  Half  of  the 
cabin  was  occupied  by  the  family  of  Simeon 
Kieff,  the  other  was  given  up  to  me.  My  half 
of  the  cabin  was  a  large  apartment  divided  by  a 
partition.  Saveliitch  began  at  once  to  install 
us,  whilst  I  looked  out  of  the  narrow  window. 
Before  me  stretched  the  bleak  and  barren  steppe ; 
nearer  rose  some  cabins ;  at  the  threshold  of 
one  stood  a  woman  with  a  bowl  in  her  hand 
calling    the    pigs    to   feed;    no    other    objects 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  55 

met  my  sight,  save  a  few  chickens  scratching  for 
stray  kernels  of  corn  in  the  street.  And  this 
was  the  coantry  to  which  I  was  condemned  to 
pass  my  youth!  I  turned  from  the  window, 
seized  by  bitter  sadness,  and  went  to  bed  with- 
out supper,  notwithstanding  the  supplications  of 
Saveliitch,  who  with  anguish  cried  aloud  :  "Oh! 
he  will  not  deign  to  eat !  O  Lord !  what  will 
my  mistress  say,  if  the  child  should  fall  ill!" 

The  next  morning  I  had  scarcely  begun  to 
dress,  when  a  young  officer  entered  my  room. 
He  was  of  small  size,  with  irregular  features, 
but  his  sun-burned  face  had  remarkable  vivacity. 
"  Pardon  me,"  sa:  J  he  in  French,  "  that  I  come 
so  unceremoniously  to  make  your  acquaintance. 
I  learned  yesterday  of  your  arrival,  and  the 
desire  of  seeing  at  last  a  human  face  so  took 
possession  of  me  that  I  could  wait  no  longer. 
You  will  undertand  this  when  you  shall  have 
lived  here  some  time  !  " 

I  easily  guessed  that  he  was  the  officer  dis- 
missed from  the  Guards  for  the   affair  of  the 


56  MARIE. 


duel — Alexis  Chabrine.  He  was  very  intelligent; 
his  conversation  was  sprightly  and  interesting. 
He  described  with  impulse  and  gayety  the  Com- 
mandant's family,  society,  and  in  general  the 
whole  country  round.  I  was  laughing  heartily, 
when  Ignatius,  the  same  old  pensioner  whom  I 
had  seen  mending  his  uniform  in  the  Captain's 
waiting-room,  entered,  and  gave  me  an  invita- 
tion to  dinner  from  Basilia  Mironofif,  the  Cap- 
tain's wife.  Alexis  declared  that  he  would 
accompany  me. 

Approaching  the  Commandant's  house  we  saw 
on  the  square  some  twenty  little  old  pensioners, 
with  long  queues  and  three-cornered  hats. 
These  old  men  were  drawn  up  in  line  of  battle. 
Before  them  stood  the  Commandant,  a  fresh  and 
vigorous  old  man  of  high  stature,  in  dressing- 
gown  and  cotton  cap.  As  soon  as  he  saw  us,  he 
approached,  addressed  me  a  few  affable  words, 
and  then  resumed  his  drill.  We  were  going  to 
stay  to  see  the  manoeuvring,  but  he  begged  us 
to  go  on  immediately  to  the  house,  promising  to 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  57 


join  us  at  once;  "for,"  said  he,  "  there  is  really 
nothing  to  be  seen  here." 

Basilia  received  us  kindly,  and  with  simplicity, 
treating  me  like  an  old  acquaintance.  The 
pensioner,  and  the  maid  Polacca  were  laying 
the  table-cloth. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  my  dear  Ivan  Miron- 
off,  to-day,  that  he  is  so  long  instructing  his 
troops }  "  said  the  mistress.  "  Polacca,  go  and 
bring  him  to  dinner.  And  where  is  my  child, 
Marie?"  Scarcely  had  she  pronounced  this 
name,  than  a  young  girl  about  sixteen  entered 
the  room;  —  a  rosy,  round-faced  girl,  wearing 
her  hair  in  smooth  bandeaux,  caught  behind  her 
ears,  which  were  red  with  modesty  and  shyness. 
She  did  not  please  me  very  much  at  the  first 
glance;  I  was  prejudiced  against  her  by  Alexis, 
who  had  described  the  Captain's  daughter  to  me 
as  a  fool.  Marie  seated  herself  in  a  corner  and 
began  to  sew.  The  soup  was  brought  on  the 
table.  Basilia,  not  seeing  her  husband  coming, 
sent  the  maid  a  second  time  to  call  him. 


5  8  MARIE 


"  Tell  the  master  that  his  inspection  can 
wait;  the  soup  is  cooling.  Thank  God!  the 
drills  need  not  be  lost;  there  will  be  time 
enough  yet  to  use  his  voice  at  his  leisure." 

The  captain  soon  appeared  with  his  one-eyed 
officer. 

"  What's  this,  my  dear,"  said  Basilia  ;  "  the 
table  has  been  served  some  time,  and  no  one 
could  make  you  come." 

/  "  You  see,  Basilia,  I  was  busy  with  the  service, 
instructing  my  good  soldiers." 

"  Come,  come,  Ivan  Mironoff,  that's  boasting. 
The  service  does  not  suit  them,  and  as  for  you, 
you  know  nothing  about  it.  You  should  have 
stayed  at  home  and  prayed  God,  that  suits  you 
much  better.     My  dear  guests,  to  table." 

We  took  our  places  for  dinner.  Basilia  was 
not  silent  a  moment ;  she  overwhelmed  me  with 
questions:  Who  where  my  parents.''  Were  they 
living.''  Where  did  they  reside?  What  was 
their  fortune .-'  When  she  learned  that  my  father 
owned  three  hundred  serfs,  she  exclaimed : 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  59 

"  You  see  there  are  some  rich  people  in  the 
world — and  we,  my  dear  sir,  in  point  of  souls, 
we  possess  only  the  maid  Polacca.  Yet,  thank 
God,  we  live,  somehow  or  other.  We  have  but 
one  care,  that  is  Marie,  a  girl  that  must  be 
married  off.  And  what  fortune  has  she?  The 
price  of  two  baths  per  annum.  If  only  she 
could  find  a  worthy  husband.  If  not,  there  she 
is,  eternally  a  maid." 

I  glanced  at  Marie;  she  blushed,  tears  were 
dropping  into  her  soup.  I  pitied  her,  and  hast- 
ened to  change  the  conversation.  "  I  have  heard 
that  the  Bashkirs  intend  to  attack  your  fortress.''" 

"  Who  said  so,"  replied  Ivan  Mironoff. 

"  I  heard  it  at  Orenbourg." 

"All  nonsense,"  said  Ivan,  "we  have  not 
heard  the  least  word  about  it ;  the  Bashkirs  are 
an  intimidated  people ;  and  the  Kirghis  have 
also  had  some  good  lessons.  They  dare  not 
attack  us,  and  if  they  should  even  dream  of  it,  I 
would  give  them  so  great  a  fright  that  they 
would  not  move  again  for  ten  years." 


6o  MARIE  : 


"Do  you  not  fear,"  I  continued,  addressing 
Basilia,  "  to  stay  in  a  fortress  exposed  to  these 
dangers  ? " 

"A  matter  of  habit,  my  dear,"  she  replied, 
"  twenty  years  ago,  when  we  were  transferred 
here  from  the  regiment,  you  could  not  believe 
how  I  feared  the  pagans.  If  I  chanced  to  see 
their  fur  caps,  if  I  heard  their  shouts,  believe 
me,  my  heart  was  ready  to  faint ;  but  now  I  am 
so  used  to  this  life,  that  if  told  that  the  bri- 
gands were  prowling  around  us,  I  would  not  stir 
from  the  fortress." 

"  Basilia  is  a  very  brave  lady,"  observed 
Alexis,  gravely.  "  Ivan  Mironoff  knows  some 
thing  about  it." 

"  Oh,  you  see,"  said  Ivan,  **  she  does  not  be- 
long to  the  regiment  of  poltroons." 

"  And  Marie,"  I  asked  of  her  mother,  "is  she 
as  bold  as  you?  " 

"  Marie  .?  "  said  the  lady.  "  No  !  Marie  is  a 
coward.  Up  to  the  present  she  has  not  heard 
the  report  of  a  gun  without  trembling  in  every 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  6i 


limb.  Two  years  ago  Ivan  had  a  pleasant  fancy 
to  fire  off  his  cannon  on  my  birthday ;  the  poor 
pigeon  was  so  frightened  that  she  almost  went 
into  the  next  world.  Since  that  day  the  miserable 
cannon  has  not  spoken." 

We  rose  from  the  table.  The  captain  and  his 
wife  went  to  take  their  siesta.  I  went  with  Alexis 
to  his  room,  where  we  passed  the  evening  to- 
gether- 


6a 


IV. 


THE    DUEL. 


O  EVERAL  weeks  elapsed,  during  which  my 
^^  life  in  the  fortress  became  not  only  sup- 
portable, but  even  agreeable.  I  was  received  as 
a  member  of  the  family  in  the  Commandant's 
house.  The  husband  and  wife  were  excellent 
people.  Ivan  Mironoff,  from  being  the  adopted 
child  of  the  regiment,  rose  to  ofificer's  rank.  He 
was  a  plain,  simple,  uneducated  man,  but  thor- 
oughly good  and  loyal.  His  wife  governed  him, 
and  that  suited  his  natural  indolence.  Basilia 
directed  the  affairs  of  the  garrison,  as  she  did 

her  household,  and  commanded  through  the  fort- 

63 


64  MARIE . 


ress  as  she  did  in  her  own  kitchen.  Marie  soon 
lost  her  shyness,  and  as  we  became  better 
acquainted  I  found  that  she  was  a  girl  full  of 
affection  and  intelligence.  Little  by  little  I 
became  deeply  attached  to  this  good  family. 

I  was  promoted,  and  ranked  as  an  officer. 
Military  service  did  not  oppress  me.  In  this 
fortress,  blessed  by  God,  there  was  no  duty 
to  do,  no  guard  to  mount,  nor  review  to  pass. 
Occasionally,  for  his  own  amusement,  the  Com- 
mandant drilled  his  soldiers.  He  had  not  yet 
succeeded  in  teaching  them  which  was  the  righ*^ 
flank  and  which  the  left. 

Alexis  had  some  French  books,  and  in  my 
idleness  I  set  to  work  to  read,  so  that  a  taste  for 
literature  awoke  within  me.  I  read  every  morn- 
ing, and  essayed  some  translations,  even  metri- 
cal compositions.  Almost  every  day  I  dined  at 
the  Commandant's,  where,  as  a  general  thing,  I 
spent  the  rest  of  the  day.  In  the  evening, 
Father  Garasim  came  with  his  wife,  Accoulina, 
the  greatest  gossip  of  the  place.    Of  course  Alexis 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  65 


and  I  met  daily,  yet  gradually  his  society  dis- 
pleased me.  His  perpetual  jokes  upon  the 
Commandant's  family,  and  above  all  his  biting 
remarks  about  Marie,  rendered  his  conversation 
very  disagreeable  to  me.  I  had  no  other  society 
than  this  family  in  the  fortress,  and  I  desired 
no  other.  All  predictions  to  the  contrary,  the 
Bashkirs  did  not  revolt,  and  peace  reigned 
around  us. 

I  have  already  said  that  I  busied  myself  some- 
what with  literature.  One  day  I  happened  to 
write  a  little  song,  of  which  I  was  proud.  It  is 
well  known  that  authors,  under  pretext  of  ask- 
ing advice,  willingly  seek  a  kindly  audience.  I 
copied  my  little  song  and  took  it  to  Alexis,  the 
only  one  in  the  fortress  who  could  appreciate  a 
poetical  work.  After  preluding  a  little,  I  drew 
my  pages  from  my  pocket  and  read  my  verses  to 
him. 

"How  do  you  like  that?"  said  I,  expecting 
praise  as  a  tribute  due  me.  To  my  great  annoy- 
ance, Alexis,  who  was  generally  pleased  with  my 
5 


66  MARIE  : 


writings,  declared  frankly  that  my  song  was 
worth  nothing. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  I,  with  forced 
calmness.  He  took  the  paper  out  of  my  hand 
and  began  to  criticise  without  pity,  every  verse, 
every  word,  tearing  me  up  in  the  most  malicious 
fashion.  It  was  too  much.  I  snatched  the 
paper  from  him,  declaring  that  never  again 
would  I  show  him  any  of  my  compositions. 

"  We  shall  see,"  said  he,  "  if  you  can  keep 
your  word;  poets  need  a  listener  as  Ivan  Mironoff 
needs  a  decanter  of  brandy  before  dinner.  Who 
is  this  Marie  to  whom  you  declare  your  tender 
feelings?     Might  it  not  be  Marie  Mironoff?" 

"That  is  none  of  your  business,"  said  I, 
frowning.  "  I  want  neither  your  advice  nor  sup- 
position." 

"Oh!  oh!  vain  poet;  discreet  lover,"  contin- 
ued Alexis,  irritating  me  more  and  more,  "  listen 
to  friendly  counsel:  if  you  want  to  succeed  do 
not  confine  yourself  to  songs." 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir?     Explain!" 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  67 


"  With  pleasure,"  he  replied.  "  I  mean  that 
if  you  wish  to  form  an  intimacy  with  Marie 
Mironoff,  you  have  only  to  give  her  a  pair  of 
earrings  instead  of  your  lackadaisical  verses." 

All  my  blood  boiled.  "  Why  have  you  this 
opinion  of  her?"  I  asked,  with  much  effort  re- 
straining my  anger. 

"  Because,"  said  he,  "of  my  own  experience." 

"  You  lie,  wretch,"  1  cried,  with  fury,  "  you 
lie,  shamelessly." 

Alexis  was  enraged. 

•'  That  shall  not  pass  so,"  he  said,  grasping  my 
hand.     "You  shall  give  me  satisfaction." 

"  When  ever  you  like,"  I  replied,  joyfully,  for 
at  that  moment  I  was  ready  to  tear  him  to  pieces. 
I  ran  at  once  to  see  Ivan  Ignatius,  whom  I  found 
with  a  needle  in  his  hand.  According  to  orders 
from  the  Commandant's  wife,  he  was  stringing 
mushrooms  which  were  to  be   dried  for  winter 

use. 

"  Ah !  Peter  Grineff,  be  welcome.  Dare  I  ask 
on  what  business  God  sends  you  here?" 


68  MARIE . 


In  a  few  words  I  told  him  of  my  quarrel  with 
Alexis,  and  begged  him,  Ignatius,  to  be  my 
second.  Ignatius  heard  me  to  the  end  with 
great  attention,  opening  wide  his  only  eye. 

"  You  deign  to  say  that  you  want  to  kill  Alexis, 
and  desire  that  I  should  witness  the  act?  Is 
that  what  you  mean,  dare  I  ask?  " 

"  Precisely." 

"  Ah !  what  folly ;  you  have  had  some  words 
with  Alexis.  What  then  ?  a  harsh  word  can  not 
be  hung  up  by  the  neck.  He  gives  you  imper- 
tinence, give  him  the  same;  if  he  give  you  a 
slap,  return  the  blow ;  he  a  second,  you  a  third ; 
in  the  end  we  will  compel  you  to  make  peace. 
Whilst  if  you  fight — well,  if  you  should  kill  him, 
God  be  with  him !  for  I  do  not  like  him  much  ; 
but  if  he  should  perforate  you,  what  a  nice  piece 
of  business!  Then  who  will  pay  for  the  broken 
pots? " 

The  arguments  of  the  prudent  officer  did  not 
shake  my  resolution. 

"  Do  as  you  like,"  said  Ignatius,  "  but  what's 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN-  LOVE.  69 

the  use  of  having  me  as  a  witness  ?  People 
fight  —  that's  nothing  extraordinary  —  I  have 
often  been  quite  close  to  Swedes  and  Turks, 
and  people  of  all  shades  of  color." 

I  tried  to  explain  to  him  the  duties  of  a  second ; 
Ignatius  would  not,  or  could  not  understand  me. 
"  Follow  your  own  fashion,"  said  he,  "  if  I  were 
to  meddle  in  this  affair,  it  would  be  to  announce 
to  Ivan  Mironoff,  according  to  rule,  that  a  plot 
is  being  made  in  the  fortress  for  the  commission 
of  a  criminal  action — one  contrary  to  the  inter- 
ests of  the  crown." 

I  was  alarmed,  and  begged  Ignatius  to  say 
nothing  to  the  Commandant.  He  gave  me  his 
word  that  he  would  be  silent,  and  I  left  him  in 
peace.  As  usual  I  passed  the  evening  at  the 
Commandant's,  forcing  myself  to  be  calm  and  gay, 
in  order  not  to  awaken  suspicions  and  to  avoid 
questioning.  I  confess  that  I  had  not  the  cool- 
ness of  which  people  boast  who  have  been  in  a 
similar  position.  I  was  disposed  to  tenderness. 
Marie   Mironoff    seemed    more   attractive   than 


70  MARIE: 


ever.  The  idea  that  perhaps  I  saw  her  for  the 
last  time,  gave  her  a  touching  grace. 

Alexis  entered.  I  took  him  aside  and  told 
him  of  my  conversation  with  Ignatius. 

"  What's  the  good  of  seconds,"  said  he,  dryly. 
"  We  can  do  without  them." 

We  agreed  to  fight  behind  the  haystack  the 
next  morning  at  six  o'clock. 

Seeing  us  talking  amicably,  Ignatius,  full  of 
joy,  nearly  betrayed  us.  "  You  should  have 
done  that  long  ago,  for  a  bad  peace  is  better 
than  a  good  quarrel." 

"What!  what!  Ignatius,"  said  the  Captain's 
wife,  who  was  playing  patience  in  a  corner,  "  I 
do  not  quite  understand  ?" 

Ignatius,  seeing  my  displeasure,  remembered 
his  promise,  became  confused  and  knew  not  what 
to  answer.  Alexis  came  to  his  relief:  "  He 
approves  of  peace." 

"  With  whom  had  you  quarreled  ?  "  said   she: 

••With  PeterGrineff— a  few  high  words." 

"Why?" 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  71 

"For  a  mere  nothing  —  a  song." 

"Fine  cause  for  a  quarrel !  a  song!  Tell  me 
how  it  happened." 

"  Willingly :  Peter  has  recently  been  compos- 
ing, and  this  morning  he  sang  his  song  for  me. 
Then  I  chanted  mine: 

'  Daughter  of  the  Captain,  walk  not  forth  at  midnight.' 

As  we  were  not  on  the  same  note,  Peter  was 
angry,  forgetting  that  every  one  is  at  liberty  to 
sing  what  he  pleases." 

The  insolence  of  Alexis  made  me  furious.  No 
one  but  myself  understood  his  allusions.  From 
poetry  the  conversation  passed  to  poets  in  gen- 
eral. The  Commandant  observed  that  they  were 
all  debauchees  and  drunkards,  and  advised  me, 
as  a  friend,  to  renounce  poetry  as  contrary  to  the 
service,  and  leading  to  nothing  good. 

As  the  presence  of  Alexis  was  to  me  insup- 
portable, I  hastened  to  take  leave  of  the  family. 
In  my  own  apartment  I  examined  my  sword,  tried 
its    point,   and   went   to    bed,    having    ordered 


72  MARIE: 


Saveliitch  to  wake  me  in  the  morning  at  six 
o'clock. 

The  next  day  at  the  appointed  time  I  was  be- 
hind the  haystack  awaiting  my  adversary,  who 
did  not  fail  to  appear.  "  We  may  be  surprised," 
he  said;  "be  quick."  We  laid  aside  our  uni- 
forms, drew  our  swords  from  the  scabbards,  when 
Ignatius,  followed  by  five  pensioners,  came  out 
from  behind  a  haystack.  He  ordered  us  to  repair 
to  the  presence  of  the  Commandant.  We  obeyed. 
The  soldiers  surrounded  us.  Ignatius  conduct- 
ed us  in  triumph,  marching  in  military  step, 
with  majestic  gravity.  We  entered  the  Com- 
mandant's house ;  Ignatius  opened  the  folding 
doors,  and  exclaimed  with  emphasis :  "  They 
are  taken !  " 

Basilia  ran  toward  us  :  "  What  does  this  mean  ? 
plotting  an  assassination  in  our  fortress  !  Ivan 
Mironoff,  arrest  them!  Peter  Grineff,  Alexis, 
give  up  your  swords — give  them  up.  Polacca, 
my  woman,  carry  off  these  swords  to  the  garret. 
Peter,  I  did  not  expect  this  of  you  ;  are  you  not 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  73 

ashamed?  As  for  Alexis,  it  is  quite  different; 
he  was  transferred  to  us  from  the  Guards  for 
having  caused  a  soul  to  perish;  and  he  does  not 
believe  in  our  blessed  Saviour." 

Ivan  Mironoff  approved  unceasingly  all  that 
his  wife  said  :  "  You  see  !  You  see !  Basilia  is 
right,  duels  are  forbidden  by  the  military  code." 

Meantime  Polacca  had  carried  off  our  swords 
to  the  garret.  I  could  not  help  smiling  at  this 
scene.  Alexis  preserved  all  his  gravity,  and  said 
to  Basilia :  "  Notwithstanding  all  my  respect  for 
you,  I  must  say  you  take  useless  pains  to  subject 
us  to  your  tribunal.  Leave  that  duty  to  Ivan 
Mironoff;  it  is  his  business." 

"What!  what!  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  lady, 
"  are  not  man  and  wife  the  same  flesh  and  spirit.'' 
Ivan  Mironoff,  are  you  trifling?  Lock  up  these 
boys  instantly;  put  them  in  separate  rooms — on 
bread  and  water,  to  expel  this  stupid  idea  of 
theirs.  Let  father  Garasim  give  them  a  penance 
in  order  that  they  may  repent  before  God  and 
man." 


74  MARIE: 


Ivan  Mironofif  did  not  know  what  to  do. 
Marie  was  extremely  pale.  The  tempest,  how- 
ever, subsided  little  by  little.  Basilia  ordered 
us  to  embrace  each  other,  and  the  maid  was 
sent  for  our  swords.  We  left  the  house,  having 
in  appearance  made  friends.  Ignatius  re-con- 
ducted us. 

"  Are  you  not  ashamed  of  yourself,"  I  said  to 
him,  "  to  have  denounced  us  to  the  Command- 
ant, after  having  given  me  your  word  you  would 
not  do  so.-"' 

"  As  God  is  holy,  I  said  nothing  to  Ivan  Mi- 
ronofif. Basilia  drew  it  all  from  me.  She  took  all 
the  necessary  measures  without  the  knowledge 
of  the  Commandant.  Thank  God  it  finished  as 
it  did."  He  went  to  his  room;  I  remained  with 
Alexis. 

"  Our  affair  can  not  end  thus,"  I  remarked. 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  Alexis.  "  You  shall 
pay  me  with  your  blood  for  your  impertinence, 
but  as  undoubtedly  we  shall  be  watched,  let  us 
feign  for  a  few  days.     Until  then,  adieu !" 


A   STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  75 


We  separated  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  I 
returned  to  the  Commandant's,  and  seated  my- 
self as  usual  near  Marie.  Her  father  was  absent 
and  her  mother  busy  with  household  duties. 
We  spoke  in  subdued  tones.  Marie  reproached 
me  gently  for  the  pain  my  quarrel  with  Alexis 
gave  her.  "  My  heart  failed  me,"  she  said, 
"  when  I  heard  you  were  going  to  fight  with 
swords.  How  strange  men  are !  For  a  word,  they 
are  ready  to  strangle  each  other,  and  sacrifice, 
not  only  their  own  life,  but  even  the  honor  and 

happiness   of   those  who I   am  sure  you 

did  not  begin  the  quarrel }     Alexis  was  the  ag- 
gressor ?" 

"  Why  do  you  think  so?" 

"Because  he  is  so  sarcastic.  I  do  not 
like  him,  and  yet  I  would  not  displease  him, 
although  he  is  quite  disagreeable  to  me." 

"  What  do  you  think,  Marie,  are  you  pleasing 
to  him  or  not?" 

Marie  blushed.  "  It  seems,"  said  she,  "  that 
I  please  him." 


76  MARIE 


"  How  do  you  know  ?" 

"Because  he  made  me  an  offer  of  marriage." 

"  He  made  you  an  offer  of  marriage ! 
When  ? " 

"  Last  year,  two  months  before  your  ar- 
rival." 

"You  did  not  accept?" 

"  Evidently  not,  as  you  see.  Alexis  is  a  most 
intelligent  man,  of  an  excellent  family  and  not 
without  fortune,  but  the  mere  idea  that  beneath 
the  crown,  on  my  marriage  day,  I  should  be  ob- 
liged to  kiss  him  before  everyone!  No!  no!  not 
for  any  thing  in  the  world." 

Marie's  words  opened  my  eyes.  I  understood 
the  persistence  of  Alexis  in  aspersing  her  char- 
acter. He  had  probably  remarked  our  mutual 
inclination,  and  was  trying  to  turn  us  from  each 
other.  The  words  which  had  provoked  our 
quarrel  seemed  to  me  the  more  infamous,  as 
instead  of  being  a  vulgar  joke,  it  was  deliberate 
calumny.  The  desire  to  punish  this  shameless 
liar  became  so  strong  that  I  waited  impatiently 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  77 


the  favorable  moment.  I  had  not  long  to  wait. 
The  next  day,  occupied  composing  an  elegy,  bit- 
ing my  pen  in  the  expectation  of  a  rhyme,  Alexis 
knocked  at  my  window.  I  put  down  my  pen, 
took  my  sword,  and  went  out  of  the  house. 

"  Why  defer .?"  said  Alexis,  "  we  are  no  longer 
watched,  let  us  go  down  to  the  river-side ;  there 
none  will  hinder  us." 

We  set  out  in  silence,  and  having  descended  a 
steep  path,  we  stopped  at  the  water's  edge  and 
crossed  swords.  Alexis  was  more  skillful  than 
I  in  the  use  of  arms,  but  I  was  stronger  and 
bol(ier.  Mons.  Beaupre,  who  had  been,  amongst 
other  things,  a  soldier,  had  taught  me  fencing. 
Alexis  did  not  expect  to  find  in  me  an  adversary 
of  so  dangerous  a  character. 

For  some  minutes  neither  gained  any  advan- 
tage over  the  other,  but  at  last  noticing  that 
Alexis  was  growing  weak,  I  attacked  him  ener- 
getically, and  almost  drove  him  backward  into 
the  river,  when  suddenly  I  heard  my  name  pro- 
nounced   in    a   high   voice.     Turning  my  head 


78 


MARIE. 


rapidly,  I  saw  Saveliitch  running  toward  me 
down  the  path.  As  I  turned  my  head,  I  felt 
a  sharp  thrust  in  the  breast  under  the  right 
shoulder,  and  I  fell,  unconscious. 


LOVE. 


WHEN  I  came  to  myself,  I  neither  knew 
what  had  happened  nor  where  I  was.  I 
felt  very  weak ;  the  room  was  strange,  there  was 
Saveliitch  standing  before  me,  a  light  in  his 
hand,  and  some  one  arranging  the  bandages  that 
bound  my  chest  and  shoulder.  Gradually  I 
recalled  my  duel,  and  easily  divined  that  I  had 
been  wounded.  The  door  at  this  instant  moaned 
gently  on  its  hinges. 

"Well,  how  is  he.''"  whispered  a  voice  that 
made  me  start. 

"  Still   in   the   same  state,"  sighed  Saveliitch, 

79 


8o  MARIE . 


"  now  unconscious  four  days."  I  wanted  to  turn 
on  my  bed,  but  I  had  not  the  strength.  "  Where 
am  I?"  said  I,  with  effort,  "who  is  here?"  Marie 
approached,  and  bending  over  me  said,  gently, 
"  How  do  you  feel?" 

"  Thank  God,  I  am  well.     Is  that  Marie  ?  tell 

me ?"    I  could  not  finish.   Saveliitch  uttered 

a  cry  of  joy,  his  delight  showing  plainly  in  his 
face.  "  He  recovers !  he  recovers !  Thanks 
to  thee,  O  God !  Peter,  how  you  frightened 
me  !  — four  days !     It  is  easy  to  talk !  " 

Marie  interrupted  him :  "  Do  not,  Saveliitch, 
speak  too  much  to  him;  he  is  still  very  weak." 
She  went  out,  shutting  the  door  noiselessly.  I 
must  be  in  the  Commandant's  house,  or  Marie 
could  not  come  to  see  me.  I  wished  to  question 
Saveliitch,  but  the  old  man  shook  his  head  and 
put  his  fingers  in  his  ears.  I  closed  my  eyes 
from  ill-humor — and  fell  asleep. 

Upon  awaking,  I  called  Saveliitch ;  instead  of 
him,  I  saw  before  me  Marie,  whose  gentle  voice 
greeted  me.     I  seized  her  hand  and  bathed  it 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  8l 

with  my  tears.  Marie  did  not  withdraw  it,  and 
suddenly  I  felt  upon  my  cheek  the  impression, 
humid  and  delicious,  of  her  lips  !  A  thrill  shot 
through  my  whole  being. 

*'  Dear,  good  Marie,  be  my  wife,  and  make  me 
the  happiest  of  men!" 

"  In  the  name  of  heaven  be  calm,"  she  said, 
withdrawing  her  hand,  "  your  wound  may  re- 
open; for  my  sake  be  careful." 

She  left  the  room.  I  was  in  a  daze.  I  felt 
life  returning.  "She  will  be  mine!"  I  kept  re- 
peating, "she  loves  me!"  I  grew  better,  hour 
by  hour.  The  barber  of  the  regiment  dressed 
my  wounds,  for  there  was  no  other  physician  in 
the  fortress,  and  thank  God,  he  did  not  merely 
play  the  doctor.  Youth  and  nature  completed 
the  cure. 

The  Commandant's  whole  family  surrounded 
me  with  care.  Marie  scarcely  ever  left  me.  I 
need  not  say  that  I  took  the  first  favorable  mo- 
ment to  continue  my  interrupted  declaration. 
This  time  Marie  listened  with  more  patience. 
6 


82  MARIE . 


She  frankly  acknowledged  her  affection  for  me, 
and  added  that  her  parents  would  be  happy  in 
her  happiness;  "but,"  she  continued,  "think 
well  of  it  ?  Will  there  be  no  objection  on  the 
part  of  your  family  ?" 

I  did  not  doubt  my  mother's  tenderness,  but 
knowing  my  father's  character,  I  foresaw  that 
my  love  would  not  be  received  by  him  favorably, 
and  that  in  all  probability  he  would  treat  it  as 
one  of  my  youthful  follies.  This  I  avowed 
plainly  to  Marie,  but  nevertheless  I  resolved  to 
write  to  my  father  as  eloquently  as  possible,  and 
ask  his  blessing  on  our  marriage.  I  showed  the 
letter  to  Marie,  who  thought  it  so  touching  and 
convincing  that  she  did  not  doubt  of  success, 
and  abandoned  herself,  with  all  the  confidence 
of  youth  and  love,  to  the  feelings  of  her  heart. 

I  made  peace  with  Alexis  in  the  first  days  of 
my  convalescence.  Ivan  Mironofif  said,  reproach- 
ing me  for  the  duel :  "  You  see,  Peter,  I  ought 
to  put  you  under  arrest,  but  indeed  you  have 
been  well  punished  without  that.     Alexis  is,  by 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  83 

my  orders,  under  guard  in  the  barn,  and  his 
sword  is  under  lock  and  key  in  Basilia's  keeping." 

I  was  too  happy  to  harbor  spite,  so  I  entreated 
for  Alexis,  and  the  kind  Commandant,  with  his 
wife's  permission,  consented  to  set  him  at  liberty. 
Alexis  came  at  once  to  see  me.  He  expressed 
regret  for  all  that  had  happened,  confessing  that 
the  fault  was  all  his,  and  begged  me  to  forget  the 
past.  Being  naturally  incapable  of  revenge,  I 
pardoned  him,  forgiving  both  our  quarrel  and  my 
wound.  In  his  calumny  I  now  saw  the  irritation 
of  wounded  vanity  and  despised  love.  I  gener- 
ously forgave  my  unfortunate  rival.  As  soon  as 
completely  cured  I  returned  to  my  lodging.  I 
awaited  impatiently  the  reply  to  my  letter,  not 
daring  to  hope,  yet  trying  to  stifle  all  sad  pre- 
sentiments. I  had  not  yet  had  an  explanation 
with  Basilia  and  her  husband,  but  my  suit  could 
not  surprise  them.  Neither  Marie  nor  I  had 
concealed  our  feelings,  and  we  were  sure  in 
advance  of  their  consent. 

At  last,  one  pleasant  day  Saveliitch  came  to 


84  MARIE . 


my  room,  letter  in  hand.  The  address  was  writ- 
ten in  my  father's  hand.  This  sight  prepared 
me  for  something  grave,  for  usually  my  mother 
wrote  me,  and  he  only  added  a  few  lines  at  the 
end.  Long  I  hesitated  to  break  the  seal.  I 
read  again  and  again  the  solemn  superscription : 

"  To  my  Son, 

Peter  Gnneff, 

Principality  of  Orenbourg, 

Fortress  of  Belogorsk." 

I  tried  to  discover  by  my  father's  writing  his 
mood  of  mind  when  he  wrote  that  letter.  At  last 
I  broke  the  seal.  I  saw  from  the  first  lines  that 
our  hopes  were  crushed!     Here  is  the  letter : 

"My  Son  Peter:  We  received  the  15th  of 
this  month  the  letter  in  which  you  ask  our  pater- 
nal benediction  and  consent  to  your  marriage 
with  Mironoff's  daughter.  Not  only  have  I  no 
intention  of  giving  either  my  consent  or  benedic- 
tion, but  I  have  a  great  mind  to  go  to  you  and 
punish  you  for  your  childish  follies,  notwithstand- 
ing your  officer's  rank,  because  you  have  proved 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  85 

that  you  are  not  worthy  to  bear  the  sword  which 
was  given  you  for  the  defense  of  your  country, 
and  not  for  the  purpose  of  fighting  a  duel  with  a 
fool  of  your  own  stamp.  I  shall  write  instantly  to 
Andrew  Karlovitch  to  transfer  you  from  the  for- 
tress of  Belogorsk  to  some  still  more  distant 
place.  Upon  hearing  of  your  wound  your  moth- 
er was  taken  ill,  and  is  still  confined  to  her  bed. 
What  will  become  of  you .''  I  pray  God  to  reform 
you,  but  can  scarcely  hope  for  so  much  from  his 
goodness.     Your  father,  A.  G." 

The  harsh  expressions  which  my  father  had 
not  spared,  wounded  me  sorely ;  the  contempt 
with  which  he  treated  Marie  seemed  to  me  as 
unjust  as  it  was  undignified.  Then  the  mere 
idea  of  being  sent  from  this  fortress  alarmed  me  ; 
but  above  all,  I  grieved  for  my  mother's  illness. 
Saveliitch  came  in  for  a  share  of  my  indignation, 
not  doubting  but  that  he  informed  my  parents  of 
the  duel.  After  having  paced  up  and  down  my 
little  chamber,  I  stopped  suddenly  before  the  old 


S6  MARIE . 


man  and  said :  "  It  seems  that  it  is  not  enough 
that  you  caused  my  wound,  and  brought  me 
ahiiost  to  the  brink  of  the  grave,  but  that  you 
want  to  kill  my  mother  too !  " 

Saveliitch  was  as  motionless  as  if  lightning 
had  struck  him.  "  Have  mercy  on  me !  my 
lord,"  said  he,  "  what  do  you  deign  to  tell  me  ? 
I  caused  your  wound  ?  God  sees  that  I  was 
running  to  put  my  breast  before  you,  to  receive 
the  sword  of  Alexis.  This  cursed  age  of  mine 
hindered  me.  But  what  have  I  done  to  your 
mother.?" 

*'  What  have  you  done?  Who  charged  you  to 
write  an  accusation  against  me?  Were  you 
taken  into  my  service  to  play  the  spy  on  me?" 

"I  write  an  accusation  ?  "  replied  the  old  man, 
quite  broken  down,  "  O  God  !  King  of  heaven ! 
Here,  read  what  the  master  writes  me,  and  you 
shall  see  if  I  denounced  thee."  At  the  same 
time  he  drew  from  his  pocket  a  letter  which  he 
gave  me,  and  I  read  what  follows  : 

"  Shame  upon  you,  you  old  dog,  that  notwith- 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  87 

standing  my  strict  orders  you  wrote  me  nothing 
regarding  my  son,  leaving  to  strangers  the  duty 
of  telling  me  of  his  follies.  Is  it  thus  you  do 
your  duty  and  fulfill  your  master's  will?  I  shall 
send  you  to  keep  the  pigs,  for  having  concealed 
the  truth,  and  for  your  condescension  to  the 
young  man.  Upon  receipt  of  this  letter  inform 
me  immediately  of  the  state  of  his  health,  which 
is,  I  hear,  improving,  and  tell  me  precisely  the 
place  of  his  wound,  and  whether  he  has  been 
well  attended." 

Evidently  Saveliitch  was  not  in  the  wrong, 
and  I  had  offended  him  by  my  suspicions  and 
reproaches.  I  asked  him  to  forgive  me,  but  the 
old  man  was  inconsolable.  "  See  to  what  I 
have  lived! "  he  repeated;  "see  what  thanks  I 
have  merited  from  my  masters  for  all  my  long 
services !  I  am  an  old  dog !  I  am  a  swine- 
herd, and  more  than  all  that,  I  caused  your 
wound.  No,  no,  Peter,  I  am  not  in  fault,  it  is 
the  cursed  Frenchman  who  taught  thee  to 
play  with  these  steel  blades,  and  to  stamp  and 


88  MARIE 


dance,  as  if  by  thrusting  and  dancing  you 
could  defend  yourself  from  a  bad  man." 

Now,  then,  who  had  taken  the  pains  to  accuse 
me  to  my  father?  The  General,  Andrew 
Karlovitch?  he  did  not  trouble  himself  much 
about  me;  moreover,  Ivan  Mironoff  had  not 
thought  it  worth  while  to  report  my  duel  to  him. 
My  suspicions  fell  on  Alexis.  He  only  would 
find  some  advantage  in  this  information,  the 
consequence  of  which  might  be  my  dismissal 
from  the  fortress  and  separation  from  the  Com- 
mandant's family.  I  went  to  tell  every  thing  to 
Marie.     She  met  me  on  the  doorstep. 

"  What  has  happened  to  you  ?  how  pale  you 
are !  " 

"  All's  over,"  I  replied,  handing  her  my  father's 
letter. 

It  was  her  turn  to  blanch.  Having  read  the 
letter  she  returned  it,  and  said  in  a  trembling 
voice :  "  It  was  not  my  destiny.  Your  parents 
do  not  wish  me  in  their  family  ;  may  the  will  of 
God  be  done !     He  knows  better  than  we  what 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  89 

is  best  for  us.     There  is  nothing  to  be  done  in 
the  matter,  Peter;  you,  at  least,  may  be  happy." 

"  It  shall  not  be  so,"  I  exclaimed,  taking  her 
hand.  "  You  love  me,  I  am  ready  for  any  fate. 
Let  us  go  and  throw  ourselves  at  your  parents' 
feet.  They  are  simple  people ;  they  are  neither 
haughty  nor  cruel ;  they  will  give  us  their  bene- 
diction ;  we  will  marry ;  and  in  time,  I  am  sure, 
we  will  soften  my  father.  My  mother  will 
.intercede  for  us,  and  he  will  pardon  me." 

"  No,  Peter,  I  will  not  marry  you  without  the 
benediction  of  your  parents.  You  would  not  be 
happy  without  their  blessing.  Let  us  submit  to 
the  will  of  God.  If  you  meet  another  bride,  if 
you  love  her,  may  God  be  with  you !  I,  Peter,  I 
will  pray  for  both  of  you."  Tears  interrupted 
her,  and  she  went  away  ;  I  wished  to  follow  her 
into  the  house,  but  I  was  not  master  of  myself,  • 
and  I  went  to  my  own  quarters.  I  was  plunged 
in  melancholy,  when  Saveliitch  came  to  interrupt 
my  reflections. 

"There,   my  lord,"  said  he,  presenting  me  a 


9°  MARIE . 


sheet  of  paper  all  covered  with  writing,  "  see  if 
I  am  a  spy  on  my  master,  and  if  I  try  to  embroil 
father  and  son." 

I  took  the  paper  from  his  hand ;  it  was  his 
reply  to  my  father's  letter. 

I  could  not  help  smiling  at  the  old  man's 
letter.  I  was  in  no  condition  to  write  to  my 
father,  and  to  calm  my  mother  his  letter  seemed 
sufficient. 

From  that  day,  Marie  scarcely  spoke  to  me, 
and  even  tried  to  avoid  me.  The  Command- 
ant's house  became  insupportable,  and  I 
accustomed  myself,  little  by  little,  to  remain 
alone  in  my  room.  At  first  Basilia  reasoned 
with  me,  but  seeing  my  persistency  she  let  me 
alone.  I  saw  Ivan  Mironoff  only  when  the 
service  required  it.  I  had  but  rare  interviews 
with  Alexis,  for  whom  my  antipathy  increased, 
because  I  thought  I  discovered  in  him  a  secret 
enmity  which  confirmed  my  suspicions.  Life 
became  a  burden  ;  I  gave  myself  up  to  a  melan- 
choly which  was  fed  by  solitude  and  inaction. 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE. 


91 


Love  burned  on  in  silence  and  tortured  me, 
more  and  more.  I  lost  all  taste  for  reading 
and  literature ;  I  let  myself  become  completely 
depressed;  and  I  feared  that  I  should  either 
become  a  lunatic  or  rush  into  dissipation,  when 
events  occurred  that  had  great  influence  on  my 
life  and  gave  a  strong  and  healthy  tone  to  my 
mind. 


VI. 


POUGATCHEFF. 


BEFORE  beginning  the  recital  of  the  strange 
events  of  which  I  was  witness,  I  ought  to 
say  a  few  words  about  the  situation  of  affairs 
toward  the  end  of  the  year  1773.  The  rich  and 
vast  province  of  Orenbourg  was  inhabited  by  a 
number  of  tribes,  half  civilized,  who  had  just 
recognized  the  sovereignty  of  the  Russian  Czars. 
Their  continual  revolts,  their  impatience  of  law 
and  civilized  life,  their  inconstancy  and  cruelty, 
demanded  on  the  part  of  the  government  a 
constant  watchfulness  to  reduce  them  to 
obedience.  Fortresses  had  been  erected  in 
favorable  places,  and  Cossacks,  the  former  pos- 


93 


94  MARIE . 


sessors  of  the  shores  of  the  laik,  in  many  places 
formed  a  part  of  the  garrisons.  But  these  very 
Cossacks,  who  should  have  guaranteed  the 
peace  and  security  of  their  districts,  were 
restless  and  dangerous  subjects  of  the  empire. 
In  1772  a  riot  occurred  in  one  of  their  chief 
towns.  This  riot  was  caused  by  the  severity  of 
the  measures  employed  by  General  Traubenberg 
to  bring  the  army  to  obedience.  The  only  result 
of  these  measures  was  the  barbarous  murder  of 
Traubenberg,  a  change  of  Imperial  oflficers,  and 
in  the  end,  by  force  of  grape  and  canister,  the 
suppression  of  the  riot. 

This  happened  shortly  before  my  arrival  at  the 
fortress  of  Belogorsk.  Then  all  seemed  quiet. 
But  the  authorities  had  too  easily  believed  in  the 
feigned  repentance  of  the  rebels,  who  nursed 
their  hate  in  silence,  and  only  awaited  a  propi- 
tious moment  to  recommence  the  struggle. 

I  return  to  my  story.  One  evening,  it  was  in 
the  month  of  October,  1773,  I  was  alone  in  the 
house,  listening  to  the  whistling  of  the  Autumn 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  95 

winds,  and  watching  the  clouds  gliding  rapidly 
before  the  moon.  An  order  came  from  the  Com- 
mandant, calling  me  to  his  presence.  I  went 
that  instant.  I  found  there  Alexis,  Ignatius  and 
the  Corporal  of  the  Cossacks,  but  neither  the 
wife  nor  daughter  of  the  Commandant.  My 
chief  bade  me  good  evening,  had  the  door  closed, 
and  every  one  seated,  except  the  Corporal  wdro 
remained  standing;  then  he  drew  a  paper  from 
his  pocket  and  said  to  us  : 

*■  Gentlemen,  important  news !  Listen  to  what 
the  General  writes."  He  put  on  his  spectacles 
and  read: 

"  To  the  Commandant  of  the  Fortress  of  Belo- 
gorsk,  Captain  Mironoff.  Confidential.  I  hereby 
inform  you  that  the  deserter  and  turbulent  Cos- 
sack of  the  Don,  Imiliane  Pougatcheff,  after 
having  been  guilty  of  the  unpardonable  insolence 
of  usurping  the  name  of  the  deceased  Emperor 
Peter  III,  has  assembled  a  troop  of  brigands, 
disturbed  the  villages  of  the  laik,  and  has  even 
taken   and  destroyed   several  fortresses,  at  the 


96  MARIE. 


same  time  committing  everywhere  robberies  and 
assassinations.  Therefore,  upon  the  receipt  of 
this,  you  will,  Captain,  bethink  you  of  the  meas- 
ures to  be  taken  to  repulse  the  said  robber  and 
usurper  ;  and  if  possible,  in  case  he  turn  his  arms 
against  the  fortress  confided  to  your  care,  to 
completely  exterminate  him." 

"  It  is  easy  to  talk,"  said  the  Commandant; 
taking  off  his  spectacles,  and  folding  the  paper ; 
"  but  we  must  use  every  precaution.  The 
rascal  seems  strong,  and  we  have  only  130  men, 
even  adding  the  Cossacks,  upon  whom  there  is 
no  dependence,  be  it  said  without  reproach  to 
thee,  Maxim."  The  Corporal  of  the  Cossacks 
smiled.  "Gentlemen,  let  us  do  our  part;  be 
vigilant,  post  sentries,  establish  night  patrols ; 
in  case  of  an  attack,  shut  the  gates  and  call  out 
the  soldiers.  Maxim,  watch  well  your  Cossacks. 
It  is  necessary  to  examine  the  cannon  and  clean 
it ;  and  above  all,  to  keep  the  secret,  that  no  one 
in  the  fortress  should  know  any  thing  before  the 
time. 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  97 

Having  given  his  orders,  Ivan  MironofiF  dis- 
missed us.  I  went  out  with  Alexis,  speculating 
on  what  we  had  heard.  "  What  do  you  think  of 
it.''     How  will  this  end?"  I  asked  him. 

"God  knows,"  he  replied,  " we  shall  see.  At 
present  there  is  no  danger."  And  he  began,  as 
if  thinking,  to  hum  a  French  air. 

Notwithstanding  our  precautions  the  news  of 
the  apparition  of  Pougatcheff  spread  through 
the  fortress.  However  great  the  respect  of  Ivan 
Mironoff  for  his  wife,  he  would  not  reveal  to  her 
for  anything  in  the  world  a  military  secret.  When 
he  had  received  the  General's  letter  he  very 
adroitly  rid  himself  of  Basilia  by  telling  her  that 
the  Greek  priest  had  received  from  Orenbourg 
extraordinary  news  which  he  kept  a  great  mys- 
tery. Thereupon  Basilia  desired  to  pay  a  visit 
to  Accoulina,  the  clergyman's  wife,  and  by  Mi- 
ronoffs  advice  Marie  went  also.  Master  of  the 
situation,  Ivan  Mironoff  locked  up  the  maid  in 
the  kitchen  and  assembled  us. 

Basilia  came  home  without  news,  and  learned 
7 


98  MARIE  : 


that  during  her  absence  a  council  of  war  had 
been  held,  and  that  Polacca  was  imprisoned  in 
the  kitchen.  She  suspected  that  her  husband 
had  deceived  her,  and  overwhelmed  him  with 
questions.  He  was  prepared  for  the  attack,  and 
stoutly  replied  to  his  curious  better -half: 

"  You  see,  my  dear,  the  women  about  the 
countr}^  have  been  using  straw  to  kindle  their 
fires ;  now  as  that  might  be  dangerous,  I  assem- 
bled my  officers,  and  gave  them  orders  to  prevent 
these  women  lighting  fires  with  anything  but 
fagots  and  brushwood." 

"And  why  did  you  lock  up  Polacca  in  the 
kitchen  till  my  return.'"  Ivan  Mironoff  had  not 
foreseen  that  question,  and  muttered  some  inco- 
herent words.  Basilia  saw  at  once  her  husband's 
perfidy,  but  knowing  that  she  could  extract  noth- 
ing from  him  at  that  moment,  she  ceased  her 
questioning,  and  spoke  of  the  pickled  cucumbers 
which  Accoulina  knew  how  to  prepare  in  a 
superior  fashion.  That  night  Basilia  never 
closed  an  eye,  unable  to  imagine  what  it  was 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  99 


that  her  husband  knew  that  she  could  not  share 
with  him. 

The  next  day,  returning  from  mass,  she  saw 
Ignatius  cleaning  the  cannon,  taking  out  rags, 
pebbles,  bits  of  wood,  and  all  sorts  of  rubbish 
which  the  small  boys  had  stuffed  there.  "  What 
means  these  warlike  preparations?"  thought  the 
Commandant's  wife  ?  "  Is  an  attack  from  the 
Kirghis  feared  ?  is  it  possible  that  Mironoff  would 
hide  from  me  so  mere  a  trifle?"  She  called  Igna- 
tius, determined  to  know  the  secret  that  excited 
her  woman's  curiosity.  Basilia  began  by  making 
some  remarks  about  household  matters,  like  a 
judge  who  begins  his  interrogation  with  questions 
foreign  to  the  affair,  in  order  to  re -assure  the 
accused,  and  throw  him  off  his  guard.  Then 
having  paused  a  moment  she  sighed  and  shook 
her  head,  saying :  "  O  God !  what  news !  what 
news!     What  will  become  of  us?" 

"  My  dear  lady,"  said  Ignatius,  "  the  Lord  is 
merciful ;  we  have  soldiers  and  plenty  of  powder; 
I  have  cleaned  the  cannon.     We  may  repulse 


lOO  MARIE. 


this  Pougatcheff.  If  the  Lord  is  with  us,  the 
wolf  will  eat  no  one  here." 

'*  Who  is  this  Pougatcheff?"  asked  the  Com- 
mandant's wife. 

Ignatius  saw  that  he  had  gone  too  far,  and  he 
bit  his  tongue.  But  it  was  too  late.  Basilia 
constrained  him  to  tell  her  all,  having  given  her 
word  to  keep  the  secret.  She  kept  her  word, 
and  indeed  told  no  one  except  Accoulina,  whose 
cow  was  still  on  the  steppe  and  might  be  carried 
off  by  the  brigands.  Soon  every  one  talked  of 
Pougatcheff,  the  current  reports  being  very  dif- 
ferent. The  Commandant  sent  out  the  Corporal 
to  pick  up  information  about  him  in  all  the 
neighboring  villages  and  little  forts.  The  Cor- 
poral returned  after  an  absence  of  two  days,  and 
declared  that  he  had  seen  on  the  steppe,  sixty 
versts  from  the  fortress,  a  great  many  fires,  and 
that  he  had  heard  the  Bashkirs  say  that  an 
innumerable  force  was  advancing.  He  could  not 
tell  anything  definitely,  having  been  afraid  to 
venture  farther. 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.         lOI 


Great  agitation  was  soon  after  this  observed 
amongst  the  Cossacks  of  our  garrison.  They 
assembled  in  groups  in  the  streets,  speaking  in 
a  low  tone  amongst  themselves,  and  dispersing 
as  soon  as  they  perceived  a  dragoon  or  other 
Russian  soldier.  Orders  were  given  to  watch 
them.  Zoulac,  a  baptized  Kalmouk,  made  a 
very  grave  revelation  to  the  Commandant. 
According  to  the  Kalmouk,  the  Cossack  made 
a  false  report ;  for  to  his  comrades  the  perfidious 
Corporal  said  that  he  had  advanced  to  the 
rebel  camp,  had  been  presented  to  their  rebel 
chief,  had  kissed  his  hand  and  conversed  with 
him.  The  Commandant  ordered  the  Corporal 
under  arrest,  and  replaced  him  by  the  Kalmouk, 
This  change  was  received  by  the  Cossacks  with 
visible  discontent.  They  openly  murmured, 
and  Ignatius,  when  executing  the  Command- 
ant's order,  heard  them  say,  with  his  own  ears, 
"Wait,  garrison  rat,  wait!" 

The    Commandant   decided   to   examine   the 
Corporal  that  same  day,  but  he  had  escaped,  no 


I02  MARIE. 


doubt,  by  the  aid  of  his  brother  Cossacks. 
Another  event  increased  the  Captain's  uneasi- 
ness. A  Bashkir  was  seized  bearing  seditious 
letters.  Upon  this  occasion,  the  Commandant 
decided  to  call  at  once  a  council,  and  in  order  to 
do  so,  wished  to  send  away  his  wife  under  some 
specious  pretext.  But  as  Mironoff  was  the 
simplest  and  most  truthful  of  men,  he  could 
think  of  no  other  device  than  that  already 
employed. 

"You  see,  Basilia,"  said  he,  coughing  several 
times,  "  Father  Garasim  has,  it  is  said,  been  to 
the  city " 

"  Silence !  silence !  "  interrupted  his  wife ;  "you 
are  going  to  call  another  council  and  talk  in  my 
absence  of  Imiliane  Pougatcheff,  but  this  time 
you  can  not  deceive  me." 

The  Captain  stared ;  "  Eh !  well !  my  dear," 
said  he,  "  since  you  know  all,  stay ;  we  may  as 
well  speak  before  you." 

"You  cannot  play  the  fox,"  said  his  wife; 
"send  for  the  officers." 


A    STORY   OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  103 

We  assembled  again.  The  Commandant  read, 
before  his  wife,  Pougatcheff's  proclamation, 
written  by  some  half- educated  Cossack.  The 
brigand  declared  to  us  his  intention  of  marching 
directly  upon  our  fortress,  inviting  the  Cossacks 
and  soldiers  to  join  him,  and  advising  the  chiefs 
not  to  resist,  threatening,  in  that  case,  extremest 
torture.  The  proclamation  was  written  in  vulgar 
but  energetic  terms,  and  must  have  produced  an 
impression  upon  simple-minded  people. 

"What  a  rascal!"  exclaimed  the  Captain's 
wife.  *'  Just  see  what  he  proposes.  To  go  out 
and  meet  him  and  lay  our  flags  at  his  feet.  Ah ! 
the  son  of  a  dog!  He  does  not  know  that  we 
have  been  forty  years  in  the  service,  and  that, 
thank  God,  we  have  seen  all  sorts  of  military 
life.  Is  it  possible  to  find  a  Commandant  cow- 
ardly enough  to  obey  this  robber  ?  " 

"  It  ought  not  to  be,"  replied  the  Captain, 
"  but  it  is  said  that  the  villain  has  taken  pos- 
session of  several  fortresses." 

"  It  appears  he  is   quite  strong,"  said  Alexis. 


I04  MARIE. 


"We  shall  instantly  know  his  real  force," 
continued  the  Commandant;  "Basilia,  give  me 
the  key  of  the  garret.  Ignatius,  bring  the 
Bashkir  here,  and  tell  Zoulac  to  bring  the  rods." 

"  Wait  a  little,  my  dear,"  said  the  Command- 
ant's wife,  leaving  her  seat ;  "  let  me  take  Marie 
out  of  the  house,  or  else  she  will  hear  the 
screams  and  be  frightened.  And,  to  tell  the 
truth>  I  am,  myself,  not  very  curious  about  such 
investigations.     Until  I  see  you  again,  adieu." 

Torture  was  then  so  rooted  in  the  customs  of 
justice,  that  the  humane  Ukase  of  Catherine  II, 
who  had  ordered  its  abolition,  remained  long 
without  effect.  It  was  thought  that  the  confes- 
sion of  the  accused  was  indispensable  to  his 
condemnation,  an  idea  not  only  unreasonable, 
but  contrary  to  the  most  simple  good  sense  in 
matters  of  jurisprudence;  for  if  the  denial  of 
the  accused  is  not  accepted  as  proof  of  his 
innocence,  the  confession  which  is  torn  from 
him  by  torture  ought  to  serve  still  less  as  proof 
of  his  guilt.     Even  now  I   sometimes  hear  old 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  105 

judges  regret  the  abolition  of  this  barbarous 
custom.  But  in  the  time  of  our  story  no  one 
doubted  the  necessity  of  torture,  neither  the 
judges  nor  the  accused  themselves.  For  this 
reason  the  Captain's  order  did  not  astonish  any 
of  us.  Ignatius  went  for  the  Bashkir,  and  a 
few  minutes  later  he  was  brought  to  the  waiting- 
room.  The  Commandant  ordered  him  into  the 
council -room  where  we  were. 

The  Bashkir  crossed  the  threshold  with  dififi- 
culty,  for  his  feet  were  shackled.  He  took  off 
his  high  Cossack  cap  and  stood  near  the  door. 
I  looked  at  him  and  shuddered,  involuntarily. 
Never  shall  I  forget  that  man ;  he  seemed  at 
least  seventy  years  of  age,  and  had  neither  nose 
nor  ears.  His  head  was  shaved  ;  a  few  sparse 
gray  hairs  took  the  place  of  beard.  He  was 
small  of  stature,  thin  and  bent ;  but  his  Tartar 
eyes  still  sparkled. 

"  Eh !  eh ! "  said  the  Commandant,  who  recog- 
nized by  these  terrible  signs  one  of  the  rebels 
punished  in  1741.     "You  are  an  old  wolf,  I  see; 


lo6  MARIE. 


you  have  already  been  caught  in  our  snares. 
This  is  not  your  first  offense,  for  your  head  is  so 
well  planed  off." 

The  old  Bashkir  was  silent,  and  looked  at  the 
Commandant  with  an  air  of  complete  imbecility. 

"  Well !  why  are  you  silent  ? "  continued  the 
Captain;  "do  you  not  understand  Russian? 
Zoulac,  ask  him,  in  your  tongue,  who  sent  him 
into  our  fortress." 

The  Kalmouk  repeated  in  the  Tartar  language 
the  Captain's  question.  But  the  Bashkir  looked 
at  him  with  the  same  expression  and  without 
answering  a  word. 

"I  will  make  you  answer,"  exclaimed  the  Cap- 
tain, with  a  Tartar  oath.  "  Come,  take  off  his 
striped  dressing-gown,  his  fool's  garment,  and 
scourge  him  well." 

Two  pensioners  commenced  to  remove  the 
clothing  from  the  shoulders  of  the  old  man. 
Then,  sore  distress  was  vividly  depicted  on  the 
face  of  the  unfortunate  man.  He  looked  on  all 
sides,  like  a  poor  little  animal  caught  by  children 


A   STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  107 

But  when  one  of  the  pensioners  seized  his  hands 
to  turn  them  around  his  neck  and  lift  up  the  old 
man  on  his  shoulders;  when  Zoulac  took  the 
rods  and  raised  his  hand  to  strike,  then  the  Bash- 
kir uttered  a  low,  but  penetrating  moan,  and, 
raising  his  head,  opened  his  mouth,  where,  in 
place  of  a  tongue,  moved  a  short  stump! 

We  were  all  struck  with  horror.  "  Well,"  said 
the  Captain,  "  I  see  that  you  could  tell  us  nothing. 
Take  him  to  prison ;  and  now,  gentlemen,  let  us 
discuss  our  position." 

We  were  still  debating,  when  Basilia  rushed 
breathlessly  into  the  room  with  a  terrified  air. 
*'  What  has  happened  to  you  ? "  asked  the  Com- 
mandant, surprised. 

"  Misfortune !  misfortune ! "  replied  she.  "A 
fort  was  taken  this  morning;  Father  Garasim's 
boy  has  just  returned.  He  saw  how  it  was  cap- 
tured. The  Commandant  and  all  the  officers  are 
hanged,  all  the  soldiers  made  prisoners,  and  the 
rebels  are  coming  here." 

This  unexpected  news  made  a  deep  impression 


io8  MARIE: 


on  me,  for  I  knew  the  Commandant  of  that  fortress. 
Two  months  ago,  the  young  man,  traveling  \\ith 
his  bride  coming  from  Orenbourg,  had  paid  a 
visit  to  Captain  Mironoff.  The  fort  he  com- 
manded was  only  twenty-five  versts  from  ours, 
so  that  from  hour  to  hour  we  might  expect  an 
attack  from  Pougatcheff. 

My  imagination  pictured  the  fate  of  Marie,  and 
I  trembled  for  her. 

"  Listen,  Captain  Mironoff,"  said  I  to  the  Com- 
mandant, "our  duty  is  to  defend  the  fortress  to 
our  last  breath ;  that  is  understood,  but  the  safety 
of  the  women  must  be  thought  of;  send  them  to 
a  more  distant  fortress, —  to  Orenbourg,  if  the 
route  be  still  open." 

Mironoff  turned  to  his  wife.  "  You  see  my 
dear!  indeed  it  would  be  well  to  send  you  some- 
where farther  off  until  we  shall  have  defeated 
the  rebels." 

"What  nonsense!"  replied  she.  "Where  is 
the  fortress  that  balls  have  not  reached .''  In 
what  respect  is  our  fortress  unsafe .''   Thank  God, 


A   STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  109 

we  have  lived  here  twenty  and  one  years.  We 
have  seen  Bashkirs  and  Kirghis ;  Pougatcheff 
can  not  be  worse  than  they." 

"  My  dear,  stay  if  you  will,  since  your  faith  is 
so  great  in  our  fortress.  But  what  shall  we  do 
with  Marie  .-*  It  will  be  all  well  if  we  can  keep 
off  the  robber,  or  if  help  reach  us  in  time.  If 
the  fortress,  however,  be  taken " 

Basilia  could  only  stammer  a  few  words,  and 
was  silent,  choked  by  her  feelings. 

"  No,  Basilia,"  continued  the  Commandant, 
who  remarked  that  his  words  made  a  deep  im- 
pression on  his  wife,  perhaps  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life,  "  it  is  not  advisable  that  Marie  stay  here. 
Let  us  send  her  to  Orenbourg,  to  her  god- 
mother's. That  is  a  well-manned  fortress,  with 
stone  walls  and  plenty  of  cannon.  I  would 
advise  you  to  go  there  yourself;  think  what  might 
happen  to  you  were  our  fortress  to  be  taken  by 
assault." 

"Well!  well!  let  us  send  Marie  away,"  said 
the  Captain's  wife,  "but  do  not  dream  of  asking 


no  MARIE. 


me  to  go,  for  I  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind.  It  is 
not  becoming,  in  my  old  age,  to  separate  myself 
from  thee  and  seek  a  solitary  grave  in  a  strange 
place.  We  have  lived  together ;  let  us  die  to- 
gether." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  the  Commandant.  "  Go, 
and  equip  Marie;  there  is  no  time  to  lose;  to- 
morrow, at  the  dawn  of  day,  she  shall  set  out ; 
she  must  have  a  convoy,  though  indeed  there  is 
no  one  to  spare.     Where  is  she  t  " 

"  She  is  at  Accoulina's,"  said  his  wife.  "  She 
fainted  upon  hearing  that  the  fortress  had  been 
taken." 

Basilia  went  to  prepare  for  her  daughter's 
departure.  The  discussion  still  continued  at 
the  Commandant's,  but  I  took  no  further  part  in 
it.  Marie  re-appeared  at  supper  with  eyes  red 
from  tears.  We  supped  in  silence  and  rose 
from  the  table  sooner  than  usual.  Having  bade 
the  family  good  night,  each  one  sought  his  room. 
I  forgot  my  sword,  on  purpose,  and  went  back 
for  it;  I  anticipated   finding  Marie  alone.     In 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  in 


truth  she  met  me  at  the  door  and  gave  me  ray- 
sword, 

"Adieu,  Peter,"  she  said,  weeping,  "  they 
send  me  to  Orenbourg.  Be  happy.  Perhaps 
God  will  permit  us  to  meet  again ;  if  not " 

She  burst  into  tears.  I  folded  her  in  my 
arms. 

"Adieu,  my  angel!"  I  said,  "adieu  my  cher- 
ished, my  beloved;  what  ever  happens,  be  sure 
that  my  last  thought,  my  last  prayer,  will  be  for 
thee."  Leaning  on  my  breast,  Marie  wept,  I 
kissed  her  and  rushed  out. 


VII. 


THE    ASSAULT. 


I  COULD  not  sleep  during  the  night,  and  did 
not  even  undress.  I  intended  to  be  at  the 
fortress  gates  at  day  -  dawn  to  see  Marie  set  out, 
and  bid  her  a  last  adieu.  I  was  completely 
changed.  Excitement  was  less  painful  than  my 
former  melancholy,  for  with  the  grief  of  sep- 
aration there  mingled  vague  but  secret  hope, 
impatient  expectation  of  danger,  and  a  high 
ambition.  Night  passed  quickly.  I  was  on  the 
point  of  going  out,  when  my  door  opened,  and 
the  Corporal  entered,  saying  that  our  Cossacks 
had   deserted    the    fortress    during    the     night, 

8  "3 


114  MARIE. 


forcing  with  them  Zoulac,  the  Christian  Kal- 
mouk,  and  that  all  around  our  ramparts, 
unknown  people  were  riding.  The  idea  that 
Marie  had  not  been  able  to  get  off,  froze  me 
with  terror.  I  gave,  in  haste,  a  few  instructions 
to  the  Corporal,  and  ran  to  the  Commandant's. 

Day  was  breaking.  I  was  going  down  the 
street  swiftly  when  I  heard  my  name  called.  I 
stopped. 

"Where  are  you  going,  dare  I  ask.?"  said 
Ignatius,  catching  up  with  me ;  "  the  Captain 
is  on  the  rampart  and  sends  me  for  you. 
Pougatcheff  is  here." 

"Is  Marie  gone?"  I  said,  shuddering. 

"She  was  not  ready  in  time;  communica- 
tion with  Orenbourg  is  cut  off;  the  fortress  is 
surrounded.     Peter,  this  is  bad  work." 

We  went  to  the  rampart  —  a  small  height 
formed  by  nature  and  fortified  by  a  palisade. 
The  garrison  was  there  under  arms.  The 
cannon  had  been  dragged  there  the  even- 
ing before.     The  Commandant  was  walking  up 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  115 

and  down  before  his  little  troop  —  the  approach 
of  danger  had  restored  to  the  old  warrior 
extraordinary  vigor.  On  the  steppe,  not  far 
from  the  fortress,  there  were  some  twenty  horse- 
men, who  looked  like  Cossacks ;  but  amongst 
them  were  a  few  Bashkirs,  easily  recognized  by 
their  caps  and  quivers.  The  Commandant 
passed  before  the  ranks  of  his  small  army  and 
said  to  the  soldiers:  "Come,  boys,  let  us  fight 
to-day  for  our  mother  the  Empress,  and  show 
the  world  that  we  are  brave  men  and  faithful  to 
our  oath." 

The  soldiers,  with  loud  shouts,  testified  their 
good  will.  Alexis  was  standing  by  me  examin- 
ing the  enemy.  The  people  on  the  steppe, 
seeing,  no  doubt,  some  movement  in  our  fort, 
collected  in  groups  and  spoke  amongst  them- 
selves. The  Commandant  ordered  Ignatius  to 
point  the  cannon  upon  them,  he  himself 
applying  the  light.  The  ball  whistled  over 
their  heads  without  doing  them  any  harm. 
The  horsemen  dispersed  at  once,  setting  off  on 


Il6  MARIE: 


a  gallop,  and  the  steppe  became  deserted.  At 
this  moment  Basilia  appeared  on  the  rampart, 
followed  by   Marie,  who  would  not  leave  her. 

"Well,"  said  the  Captain's  wife,  "how  is  the 
battle  going.''  where  is  the  enemy?  " 

"The  enemy  is  not  far  oif,"  replied  Ivan,  "but 
if  God  wills  it,  all  will  be  well;  and  thou, 
Marie,  art  thou  afraid .-"  " 

"  No,  papa,"  said  Marie,  "  I  am  more  afraid 
by  myself  in  the  house."  She  glanced  at  me, 
and  tried  to  smile.  I  pressed  my  sword, 
remembering  that  I  had  received  it  from  her  on 
the  preceding  eve,  as  if  for  her  defense.  My 
heart  was  on  fire.  I  fancied  myself  her  knight, 
and  longed  to  prove  myself  worthy  of  her  trust. 
I  awaited  the  decisive  moment  impatiently. 

Suddenly  coming  from  behind  a  hill,  eight 
versts  from  the  fortress,  appeared  new  groups 
of  horsemen,  and  soon  the  whole  steppe  was 
covered  by  men  armed  with  lances  and  arrows. 
Amongst  them,  wearing  a  scarlet  cafetan,  sword 
in  hand,  could  be  distinguished  a  man  mounted 


A   STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  Iiy 

on  a  white  horse.  This  was  Pougatcheff  him- 
self. He  halted,  was  surrounded  by  his  fol- 
lowers, and  very  soon,  probably  by  his  orders, 
four  men  left  the  crowd  and  galloped  to  our 
ramparts.  We  recognized  among  them  our 
traitors.  One  of  them  raised  a  sheet  of  paper 
above  his  cap,  and  another  carried  on  the  point 
of  his  lance  Zoulac's  head,  which  he  threw  to 
us  over  the  palisade.  The  poor  Kalmouk's 
head  rolled  at  the  feet  of  the  Commandant. 

The  traitors  shouted  to  us :  "  Do  not  fire, 
come  out  and  receive  the  Czar.  The  Czar  is 
here." 

"Fire!"  shouted  the  Captain  as  sole  reply. 

The  soldiers  discharged  their  pieces.  The 
Cossack  who  held  the  letter,  tottered  and  fell 
from  his  horse ;  the  others  fled.  I  glanced  at 
Marie.  Petrified  by  horror  at  the  sight  of  the 
Kalmouk's  head,  dizzy  from  the  noise  of  the  dis- 
charge, she  seemed  lifeless.  The  Commandant 
ordered  the  Corporal  to  take  the  letter  from  the 
hand   of  the   dead   Cossack.      Ignatius    sallied 


Il8  MARIE: 


out  and  returned,  leading  by  the  bridle  the 
man's  horse.  He  gave  the  letter  to  Ivan,  who 
read  it  in  a  low  voice  and  tore  it  up.  Meantime 
the  rebels  were  preparing  for  an  attack.  Very 
soon  balls  whistled  about  our  ears,  and  arrows 
fell  around  us,  buried  deep  in  the  ground. 

"  Basilia,"  said  the  Captain,  "  women  have 
nothing  to  do  here;  take  away  Marie;  you  see  the 
child  is  more  dead  than  alive."  Basilia,  whom 
the  sound  of  the  balls  had  rendered  more  yield- 
ing, glanced  at  the  steppe  where  much  movement 
was  visible,  and  said  :  "  Ivan,  life  and  death  are 
from  God ;  bless  Marie ;  come,  child,  to  thy 
father." 

Pale  and  trembling,  Marie  came  and  knelt, 
bending  low  before  him.  The  old  Commandant 
made  three  times  the  sign  of  the  cross  over  her, 
then  raising,  kissed  her,  and  said  in  a  broken 
voice  :  "  Oh !  my  dear  Marie !  pray  to  God,  he 
will  never  abandon  thee.  If  an  honest  man  seek 
thee,  may  God  give  you  both  love  and  goodness. 
Live  together  as  we  have  lived ;  my  wife  and  I. 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  119 

Adieu !  my  dear  Marie !  Basilia,  take  her  away 
quickly." 

Marie  put  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  sobbed. 
The  Captain's  wife,  in  tears,  said  :  "  Embrace 
us  also ;  adieu,  Ivan ;  if  ever  I  have  crossed  you, 
forgive  me." 

"Adieu!  adieu!  my  dear,"  said  the  Command- 
ant, kissing  his  old  companion.  "  Come !  enough ! 
go  to  the  house,  and  if  you  have  time  dress  Marie 
in  her  best ;  let  her  wear  a  sarafan,  embroidered 
in  gold,  as  is  our  custom  for  burial." 

Ivan  Mironoff  returned  to  us,  and  fixed  all  his 
attention  upon  the  enemy.  The  rebels  collected 
around  their  chief  and  suddenly  began  to  ad- 
vance. "Be  firm,  boys,"  said  the  Commandant, 
"  the  assault  begins."  At  that  instant  savage  war- 
cries  were  heard.  The  rebels  were  approaching 
the  fortress  with  their  accustomed  fleetness.  Our 
cannon  was  charged  with  grape  and  canister. 
The  Commandant  let  them  come  within  short 
range,  and  again  put  a  light  to  his  piece.  The 
shot   struck   in  the   midst  of  the  force,  which 


I20  MARIE. 


scattered  in  every  direction.  Only  their  chief 
remained  in  advance,  and  he,  waving  liis  sabre, 
seemed  to  be  rallying  them.  Their  piercing 
shouts,  which  had  ceased  an  instant,  redoubled 
again.  "  Now,  children,"  ordered  the  Captain, 
"  open  the  gate,  beat  the  drum,  and  advance ! 
Follow  me,  for  a  sortie !  " 

The  Captain,  Ignatius  and  I  were  in  an  instant 
beyond  the  parapet.  But  the  frightened  garrison 
had  not  moved  from  the  square.  "  What  are  you 
doing,  my  children?"  shouted  the  Captain ;  "if 
we  must  die,  let  us  die ;  the  imperial  service 
demands  it! " 

At  this  moment  the  rebels  fell  upon  us,  and 
forced  the  entrance  to  the  citadel.  The  drum 
was  silent ;  the  garrison  threw  down  their  arms. 
I  had  been  knocked  down,  but  I  rose  and  entered, 
pell-mell,  with  the  crowds  into  the  fortress.  I 
saw  the  Commandant  wounded  on  the  head,  and 
closed  upon  by  a  small  troop  of  bandits,  who 
demanded  the  keys.  I  was  running  to  his  aid 
when  several   powerful  Cossacks  seized  me  and 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  121 

bound  me  with  their  long  sashes,  crying  out: 
"Wait  there,  traitor  to  the  Czar,  till  we  know 
what  to  do  with  you." 

We  were  dragged  along  the  streets.  The  in- 
habitants came  out  of  their  houses  offering  bread 
and  salt.  The  bells  were  rung.  Suddenly,  shouts 
announced  that  the  Czar  was  on  the  square, 
awaiting  to  receive  the  oaths  of  the  prisoners. 

Pougatcheff  was  seated  in  an  arm-chair  on  the 
steps  of  the  Commandant's  house.  He  was  robed 
in  an  elegant  Cossack  cafetan  embroidered  on 
the  seams.  A  high  cap  of  martin-skin,  orna- 
mented with  gold  tassels,  covered  his  brow  almost 
to  his  flashing  eyes.  His  face  seemed  to  me  not 
unknown.  Cossack  chiefs  surrounded  him.  Fa- 
ther Garasim,  pale  and  trembling,  stood,  the 
cross  in  his  hand,  at  the  foot  of  the  steps,  and 
seemed  to  supplicate  in  silence  for  the  victims 
brought  before  him. 

On  the  square  itself,  a  gallows  was  hastily 
erected.  When  we  approached,  the  Bashkirs 
opened  a  passage  through  the  crowd  and  pre- 


122  MARIE: 


sented  us  to  Pougatcheff.  The  bells  ceased;  the 
deepest  silence  prevailed.  "  Which  is  the  Com- 
mandant?" asked  the  usurper.  Our  Corporal 
came  out  of  the  crowd  and  pointed  to  Mironoff. 
Pougatcheff  looked  at  the  old  man  with  a  terrible 
expression,  and  said  to  him :  "  How  did  you 
dare  to  oppose  me,  your  emperor  .-^  " 

The  Commandant,  weakened  by  his  wound, 
collected  all  his  energy,  and  said,  in  a  firm  but 
faint  voice  :  "  You  are  not  my  emperor ;  you  are 
a  usurper  and  a  brigand." 

Pougatcheff  frowned  and  raised  his  white 
handkerchief.  Immediately  the  old  Captain  was 
seized  by  Cossacks  and  dragged  to  the  gibbet. 
Astride  the  cross-beam  of  the  gallows,  sat  the 
mutilated  Bashkir  whom  we  had  questioned ;  he 
held  a  rope  in  his  hand,  and  I  saw,  an  instant 
after,  poor  Ivan  Mironoff  suspended  in  the  air. 
Then  Ignatius  was  brought  up  before  Pougat- 
cheflF. 

"  Take  the  oath  to  the  emperor,  Peter  Fedoro- 
vitch." 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  123 


"  You  are  not  our  emperor,"  replied  the  Lieu- 
tenant, repeating  his  Captain's  words,  "  you  are 
a  brigand  and  a  usurper." 

Pougatcheff  again  made  a  signal  with  his 
handkerchief,  and  the  kind  Ignatius  hung  beside 
his  ancient  chief.  It  was  my  turn.  I  looked 
boldly  at  Pougatcheff,  preparing  to  repeat  the 
words  of  my  brave  comrades,  when  to  my 
inexpressible  astonishment  I  saw  Alexis  amongst 
the  rebels.  He  had  had  time  to  cut  his  hair 
round,  and  exchange  his  uniform  for  a  Cossack 
cafetan.  He  approached  Pougatcheff  and 
whispered  to  him.  "  Let  him  be  hung,"  said 
Pougatcheff,  not  deigning  to  look  at  me.  A 
rope  was  put  around  my  neck.  I  uttered  a 
prayer  to  God  in  a  low  voice,  expressing  sincere 
repentance  for  my  sins,  and  imploring  him  to 
save  all  those  dear  to  my  heart.  I  was  led 
beneath  the  gibbet.  A  shout  was  heard,  "  Stop ! 
Stop !  "  The  executioners  paused.  I  looked. 
Saveliitch  was  kneeling  at  Pougatcheff 's  feet. 
"  O   my   lord   and   master,"  said  my   dear  old 


1 24  MARIE  : 


serf,  "what  do  you  want  with  that  nobleman's 
child?  Set  him  free,  you  will  get  a  good 
ransom  for  his  life  ;  but  for  an  example,  and  to 
frighten  the  rest,  command  that  I,  an  old  man, 
shall  be  hung." 

Pougatcheff  made  a  sign.  They  unbound  me 
at  once.  "  Our  emperor  pardons  you,"  they 
said.  At  the  moment  I  did  not  know  that  my 
deliverance  was  a  cause  for  joy  or  for  sorrow. 
My  mind  was  too  confused.  I  was  taken  again 
before  the  usurper  and  made  to  kneel  at  his 
feet.  Pougatcheff  offered  me  his  muscular 
hand.  "Kiss  his  hand!  kiss  his  hand!"  cried 
out  all  around  me.  But  I  would  have  preferred 
the  most  atrocious  torture  to  a  degradation  so 
infamous.  "  My  dear  Peter,"  whispered  Savd- 
liitch,  who  was  standing  behind  me,  "do  not 
play  the  obstinate;  what  does  it  cost?  kiss  the 
brigand's  hand." 

I  did  not  move.  Pougatcheff  drew  back  his 
hand:  "His  lordship  is  stupefied  with  joy; 
raise  him  up,"  said  he.     I  was  at  liberty.     Then 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.         125 

I  witnessed    the  continuation  of  the  infamous 
comedy. 

The  inhabitants  began  to  take  the  oath. 
They  went  one  by  one  to  kiss  the  cross  and 
salute  the  usurper.  After  them  came  the  garri- 
son soldiers.  The  company's  tailor,  armed  with 
his  great  blunt  -  pointed  shears,  cut  off  their 
queues ;  they  shook  their  heads  and  kissed  the 
hand  of  Pougatchefif,  who  declared  them  par- 
doned and  received  into  his  troops.  This  lasted 
for  nearly  three  hours.  At  last  Pougatchefif  rose 
from  his  arm  -  chair  and  went  down  the  steps, 
followed  by  his  chiefs.  A  white  horse  richly 
caparisoned  was  led  to  him;  two  Cossacks  helped 
him  into  the  saddle.  He  signified  to  Father 
Garasim  that  he  would  dine  with  him.  At  this 
moment  wild  heart-rending  shrieks  from  a  woman 
filled  the  air.  Basilia,  without  her  mantle,  her 
hair  in  disorder,  was  dragged  out  on  the  steps ; 
one  of  the  brigands  had  on  her  mantle;  the 
others  were  carrying  away  her  chests,  her  linen, 
and  other  household   goods.      "O    good  men," 


126  MARIE. 


she  cried,  "  let  me  go;  take  me  to  Ivan  Mironoff." 
Suddenly  she  saw  the  gibbet  and  recognized  her 
husband.  "  Wretches,"  she  cried,  "  what  have 
you  done?  O  my  light,  Ivan!  Brave  soldier! 
no  Prussian  ball,  nor  Turkish  sabre  killed  thee, 
but  a  vile  condemned  deserter." 

"Silence  that  old  sorceress,"  said  Pougatcheff. 

A  young  Cossack  struck  her  with  his  sabre  on 
the  head.  She  fell  dead  at  the  foot  of  the  steps. 
Pougatcheff  rode  off,  all  the  people  following. 


VIII. 


THE    UNEXPECTED    VISIT. 


I  STOOD  in  the  vacant  square,  unable  to  col- 
lect my  thoughts,  disturbed  by  so  many 
terrible  emotions.  Uncertainty  about  Marie's 
fate  tortured  me.  Where  is  she?  Is  she  con- 
cealed? Is  her  retreat  safe?  I  went  to  the 
Commandant's  house.  It  was  in  frightful  dis- 
order; the  chairs,  tables,  presses  had  been  burned 
up  and  the  dishes  were  in  fragments.  I  rushed 
up  the  little  stairs  leading  to  Marie's  room,  which 
I  entered  for  the  first  time  in  my  life.  A  lamp 
still  burned  before  the  shrine  which  had  enclosed 

the  sacred  objects  revered  by  all  true  believers. 

127 


128  MARIE: 


The  clothes-press  was  empty,  the  bed  broken 
up.  The  robbers  had  not  taken  the  little  mirror 
hanging  between  the  door  and  the  window. 
What  had  become  of  the  mistress  of  this  simple, 
virginal  abode  .'*  A  terrible  thought  flashed 
through  my  mind.  Marie  in  the  hands  of  the 
brigands !  My  heart  was  torn,  and  I  cried 
aloud:  "Marie!  Marie!"  I  heard  a  rustle. 
Polacca,  quite  pale,  came  from  her  hiding-place 
behind  the  clothes-press. 

"Ah!  Peter."  said  she,  clasping  her  hands, 
"  what  a  day !  what  horrors !  " 

"Marie?"  I  asked  impatiently,  "Marie  — 
where  is  she?  " 

"The  young  lady  is  alive,"  said  the  maid, 
"concealed  at  Accoulina's,  at  the  house  of  the 
Greek  priest." 

"  Great  God !  "  I  cried,  with  terror,  "  Pougat- 
chefif  is  there !  " 

I  rushed  out  of  the  room,  made  a  bound  into 
the  street  and  ran  wildly  to  the  priest's  house. 
It  was  ringing  with  songs,  shouts  and  laughter. 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.         129 

Pougatclieff  was  at  table  there  with  his  men. 
Polacca  had  followed  me ;  I  sent  her  in  to  call 
out  Accoulina  secretly.  Accoulina  came  into 
the  waiting-room,  an  empty  bottle  in  her  hand. 

"  In  the  name  of  heaven,  where  is  Marie .'' "  I 
asked,  with  agitation. 

"  The  little  dove  is  lying  on  my  bed  behind 
the  partition.  Oh!  Peter,  what  danger  we  have 
just  escaped !  The  rascal  had  scarcely  seated 
himself  at  table  than  the  poor  thing  moaned.  I 
thought  I  should  die  of  fright.  He  heard 
her.  'Who  is  moaning  in  your  room,  old 
woman.' '  '  My  niece.  Czar.'  '  Let  me  see  your 
niece,  old  woman.'  I  saluted  him  humbly;  'My 
niece,  Czar,  has  not  strength  to  come  before 
your  grace.'  'Then  I  will  go  and  see  her.'  And 
will  you  believe  it,  he  drew  the  curtains  and 
looked  at  our  dove,  with  his  hawk's  eyes!  The 
child  did  not  recognize  him.  Poor  Ivan  Miron- 
off!  Basilia!  Why  was  Ignatius  taken,  and 
you  spared?  What  do  you  think  of  Alexis? 
He  has  cut  off  his  hair  and  now  hobnobs  with 
0 


130  MARIE: 


them  in  there.  When  I  spoke  of  my  sick  niece 
he  looked  at  me  as  if  he  would  run  me  through 
with  his  knife.  But  he  said  nothing,  and  we 
must  be  thankful  for  that." 

The  drunken  shouts  of  the  guests,  and  the 
voice  of  Father  Garasira  now  resounded  together; 
the  brigands  wanted  more  wine,  and  Accoulina 
was  needed.  "Go  back  to  your  house,  Peter," 
said  she,  "  woe  to  you,  if  you  fall  into  his 
hands ! " 

She  went  to  serve  her  guests;  I,  somewhat 
quieted,  returned  to  my  room.  Crossing  the 
square,  I  saw  some  Bashkirs  stealing  the  boots 
from  the  bodies  of  the  dead.  I  restrained  my 
useless  anger.  The  brigands  had  been  through 
the  fortress  and  had  pillaged  the  officers'  houses. 

I  reached  my  lodging.  Saveliitch  met  me  at 
the  threshold.  "  Thank  God ! "  he  cried.  "  Ah ! 
master,  the  rascals  have  taken  everything;  but 
what  matter,  since  they  did  not  take  your  life. 
Did  you  not  recognize  their  chief,  master.'"' 

"  No,  I  did  not ;  who  is  he  1 " 


A    STORY   OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  131 

"  What,  my  dear  boy,  have  you  forgotten  the 
drunkard  who  cheated  you  out  of  the  touloup 
the  day  of  the  snow  -  drift  —  a  hare-skin  touloup  ? 
—  the  rascal  burst  all   the  seams  putting  it  on." 

My  eyes  were  opened.  The  resemblance 
between  the  guide  and  Pougatcheff  was  striking. 
I  now  understood  the  pardon  accorded  me.  I 
recalled  with  gratitude  the  lucky  incident.  A 
youth's  touloup  given  to  a  vagabond  had  saved 
my  neck ;  and  this  drunkard,  capturing  fort- 
resses, had  shaken  the  very  empire. 

"Will  you  not  deign  to  eat  something?  "  said 
Saveliitch,  true  to  his  instincts  ;  "  there  is  nothing 
in  the  house,  it  is  true,  but  I  will  find  something 
and  prepare  it  for  you." 

Left  alone,  I  began  to  reflect  that  not  to  leave 
the  fortress,  now  subject  to  the  brigand,  or  to 
join  his  troops,  would  be  unworthy  of  an  officer. 
Duty  required  me  to  go  and  present  myself 
where  I  could  still  be  useful  to  my  country. 
But  love  counseled  me,  with  no  less  force,  to 
stay  near  Marie,  to  be  her  protector  and  cham- 


132  MARIE. 


pion.  Although  I  foresaw  a  near  and  inevitable 
change  in  the  march  of  events,  still  I  could  not, 
without  trembling,  contemplate  the  danger  of 
her  position. 

My  reflections  were  interrupted  by  the  en- 
trance of  a  Cossack,  who  came  to  announce  that 
the  "great  Czar"  called  me  to  his  presence. 
"Where  is  he?"  I  asked,  preparing  to  obey. 
"In  the  Commandant's  house,"  replied  the 
Cossack.  "After  dinner  the  Czar  went  to  the 
vapor  baths.  It  must  be  confessed  that  all 
his  ways  are  imperial !  He  can  do  more  than 
others;  at  dinner  he  deigned  to  eat  two  roast 
milk -pigs;  afterward  at  the  bath  he  endured 
the  highest  degree  of  heat;  even  the  attendant 
could  not  stand  it;  he  handed  the  brush  to 
another  and  was  restored  to  consciousness  only 
by  the  application  of  cold  water.  It  is  said  that 
in  the  bath,  the  marks  of  the  true  Czar  were 
plainly  seen  on  his  breast  —  a  picture  of  his 
own  face  and  a  double-headed  eagle." 

I  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  contradict  the 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  133 


Cossack,  and  I  followed  him  to  the  Command- 
ant's, trying  to  fancy  in  advance  my  interview 
with  Pougatcheff,  and  its  result.  The  reader 
may  imagine  that  I  was  not  quite  at  ease. 
Night  was  falling  as  I  reached  the  house.  The 
gibbet  with  its  victims  still  stood,  black  and 
terrible.  The  poor  body  of  our  good  Basilia 
was  lying  under  the  steps,  near  which  two 
Cossacks  mounted  guard.  He  who  had  brought 
me,  entered  to  announce  my  arrival;  he  returned 
at  once,  and  led  me  to  the  room  where  the 
evening  before  I  had  taken  leave  of  Marie.  At 
a  table  covered  with  a  cloth,  and  laden  with 
bottles  and  glasses,  sat  Pougatcheff,  surrounded 
by  some  ten  Cossack  chiefs  in  colored  caps  and 
shirts,  with  flushed  faces  and  sparkling  eyes,  the 
effect,  no  doubt,  of  the  wine -cup. 

I  saw  neither  of  our  traitors,  Alexis  or  the 
Corporal,  amongst  them. 

"  Ah !  your  lordship,  it  is  you  ?  "  said  their 
chief,  on  seeing  me.  "  Be  welcome !  Honor  and 
place  at  the  table !  " 


1 34  MARIE . 


The  guests  drew  closer   together.     I  took   a 
place  at  the  end  of  the  table.     My  neighbor,  a 
young  Cossack  of  slender  form   and   handsome 
face,  poured  out  a  bumper  of  brandy  for  me.     I 
did  not  taste  it.     I   was  busy  considering  the 
assembly.     Pougatcheff  was  seated  in  the  place 
of  honor,  elbow  on  table,  his  heavy,  black  beard 
resting  upon  his  muscular  hand.     His  features, 
regular  and  handsome,  had  no  ferocious  expres- 
sion.    He  often   spoke   to  a  man  of  some   fifty 
years,  calling  him  now  Count,  again  Uncle.     All 
treated  each  other  as  comrades,  showing  no  very 
marked  deference  for  their  chief.     They  talked 
of  the  assault  that  morning ;  of  the  revolt,  its 
success,  and  of  their  next  operations.    Each  one 
boasted  of  his  prowess,  gave  his  opinions,  and 
freely  contradicted  Pougatcheff.     In  this  strange 
council  of    war,  they  resolved   to  march  upon 
Orenbourg,  a  bold  move,  but  justified  by  previous 
successes.    The  departure  was  fixed  for  the  next 
day.     Each   one    drank    another   bumper,    and 
rising,  took  leave  of  Pougatcheff.     I  wished  to 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.         135 


follow  them,  but  the  brigand  said:     "Wait,  I 
want  to  speak  to  you." 

Pougatcheff  looked  at  me  fixedly  in  silence  for 
a  few  seconds,  winking  his  left  eye  with  the  most 
cunning,  mocking  expression.  At  last  he  burst 
into  a  long  peal  of  laughter,  so  hearty,  that  I, 
just  from  seeing  him,  began  to  laugh,  without 
knowing  why. 

"  Well,  my  lord,"  said  he,  "  confess  that  you 
were  frightened,  when  my  boys    put  the   rope 
around  your  neck  ?     The  sky  must  have  seemed 
to  you  then  as  big  as  a  sheep- skin.     And  if  not 
for  your  servant,  you  would  have  been  swinging 
up  there  from  the  cross-beam;  but  at  that  very 
instant  I  recognized  the  old  owl.     Would  you 
have  thought  that  the  man  who  led  you  to  a 
shelter  on  the  steppe  was  the  great  Czar  him- 
self?"    Saying  these  words,  he  assumed  a  grave 
and  mysterious  air.   "  You  have  been  very  guilty," 
continued  he,   "but  I  have   pardoned  you,  for 
having  done  me  a  kindness,  when  I  was  obliged 
to  hide  from  my  enemies.     I  shall  load  you  with 


136  MARIE. 


favors,  when  I  shall  have  regained  my  empire. 
Do  you  promise  to  serve  me  with  zeal  ? " 

The  bandit's  question  and  impudence  made 
me  smile. 

"  Why  do  you  laugh  ? "  said  he,  frowning,  "  do 
you  not  believe  that  I  am  the  great  Czar  ?  Answer 
frankly." 

I  was  troubled.  I  could  not  recognize  a  vaga- 
bond as  the  emperor;  to  call  him  an  impostor 
to  his  face  was  to  doom  myself  to  death ;  and 
the  sacrifice  which  I  was  ready  to  make  under 
the  gibbet  that  morning,  before  all  the  people,  in 
the  first  flush  of  indignation,  seemed  now  a  use- 
less bravado.  Pougatcheff  awaited  my  answer 
in  fierce  silence.  At  last  (I  still  remember  with 
satisfaction  that  duty  triumphed  over  human 
weakness)  I  replied  to  Pougatcheff": 

"  I  will  tell  you  the  truth  and  let  you  decide. 
Should  I  recognize  you  as  the  Czar,  as  you  are 
a  man  of  intelligence,  you  would  see  that  I  am 
lying." 

"Then  who  am  I  ?  in  your  opinion." 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.         137 

"  God  knows,  but  whoever  you  are,  you  are 
playing  a  dangerous  game." 

Pougatcheff  gave  me  a  sharp,  quick  glance. 
"You  do  not  believe  that  I  am  the  emperor, 
Peter  III  ?  Be  it  so.  Have  not  bold  men  suc- 
ceeded before  me  and  obtained  the  crown.' 
Think  what  you  please  about  me,  but  stay 
with  me.  What  matters  it  whom  you  serve? 
Success  is  right.  Serve  under  me,  and  I  will 
make  you  a  field -marshal,  a  prince.  What  say 
you  ? " 

"  No,"  said  I.  "  I  am  a  nobleman.  I  have 
taken  an  oath  to  her  majesty,  the  Empress ;  I 
can  not  serve  with  you.  If  truly  you  wish  me 
well,  send  me  to  Orenbourg." 

Pougatcheff  reflected.  "  If  I  send  you  there, 
you  will,  at  least,  promise  not  to  bear  arms  against 
me?" 

"  How  can  I  promise  that?  If  I  am  ordered 
to  march  against  you,  I  must  go.  You  are  now 
a  chief;  you  desire  your  subordinates  to  obey  you. 
No,  my  life  is  in  your  hands  ;    it  you  give  me 


138  MARIE  ^ 


liberty,  thanks;  if  you  put  me  to  death,  may 
God  judge  you." 

My  frankness  pleased  him.  "Be  it  so,"  said 
he,  slapping  me  on  the  shoulders,  "  pardon  or 
punish  to  the  end.  You  can  go  to  the  four 
quarters  of  the  world,  and  do  as  you  like.  Come 
to-morrow,  and  bid  me  good-bye.  Now  go  to 
bed — I  require  rest  myself." 

I  went  out  into  the  street.  The  night  was  clear 
and  cold ;  the  moon  and  stars  shone  out  in  all 
their  brightness,  lighting  up  the  square  and  the 
gibbet.  All  was  quiet  and  dark  in  the  rest  of  the 
fortress.  At  the  inn  some  lights  were  visible,  and 
belated  drinkers  broke  the  stillness  by  their 
shouts.  I  glanced  at  Accoulina's  house ;  the 
doors  and  windows  were  closed,  and  all  seemed 
perfectly  quiet  there.  I  went  to  my  room,  and 
found  Saveliitch  deploring  my  absence.  I  told 
him  of  my  freedom.  "Thanks  to  thee,  O  God!" 
said  he,  making  the  sign  of  the  cross ;  "  to-morrow 
we  shall  set  out  at  daybreak.  I  have  prepared 
something  for  you  ;  eat,  and  then  sleep  till  morn- 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE. 


139 


ing,  tranquil  as  if   in   the  bosom  of  the  Good 
Shepherd." 

I  followed  his  advice,  and  after  having  supped, 
fell  asleep  on  the  bare  floor,  as  fatigued  in  mind 
as  in  body. 


IX. 


THE    SEPARATION. 


THE  drum  awoke  me  early  the  next  morning. 
I  went  out  on  the  square.  PougatchefF's 
troops  were  there,  falling  into  rank,  around  the 
gibbet,  to  which  still  hung  the  victims  of  yester- 
day. The  Cossacks  were  mounted ;  the  infantry 
and  artillery,  with  our  single  gun,  were  accoutred 
ready  for  the  march.  The  inhabitants  were  also 
assembled  there  awaiting  the  usurper.  Before 
the  steps  of  the  Commandant's  house  a  Cossack 
held  by  the  bridle  a  magnificent  white  horse.  My 
eyes  sought  the  body  of  our  good  Basilia.  It  had 
been  dragged  aside  and  covered  with  an  old  bark 


141 


142  MARIE. 


mat.  At  last  Pougatcheff  came  out  on  the  steps, 
and  saluted  the  crowd.  All  heads  were  bared. 
One  of  the  chiefs  handed  him  a  bag  of  copper 
coin,  which  he  threw  by  the  handful  among  the 
people.  Perceiving  me  in  the  crowd,  he  signed 
to  me  to  approach. 

"  Listen,"  said  he,  "  go  at  once  to  Orenbourg, 
and  say  from  me,  to  the  Governor  and  all  the 
Generals,  that  I  shall  be  there  in  a  week.  Counsel 
them  'to  receive  me  with  submission  and  filial 
love,  otherwise  they  shall  not  escape  the  direst 
torture.  A  pleasant  journey  to  you."  The 
principal  followers  of  Pougatcheff  surrounded 
him,  Alexis  amongst  others.  The  usurper  turned 
to  the  people,  and  pointing  to  Alexis,  said:  "Be- 
hold your  new  Commandant ;  obey  him  in  every- 
thing; he  is  responsible  for  you  and  for  the 
fortress." 

The  words  made  me  shudder.  What  would 
become  of  Marie.''  Pougatcheff  descended  the 
steps  and  vaulted  quickly  into  his  saddle  with- 
out the  aid  of  his  attendant  Cossacks.     At  that 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  143 

moment  Saveliitch  came  out  of  the  crowd,  ap- 
proached the  usarper,  and  presented  him  a  sheet 
of  paper. 

"  What  is  this  ?  "  asked  Pougatcheff,  with  dig- 
nity, 

"  Read,  you  will  deign  to  see,"  replied  the 
serf. 

Pougatcheff  examined  the  paper.  "  You  write 
very  illegibly;  where  is  my  Secretary?" 

A  boy  in  corporal's  uniform  came  running  to 
the  brigand.  "  Read  aloud,"  said  he.  I  was 
curious  to  know  for  what  purpose  the  old  man 
had  written  to  Pougatcheff.  The  Secretary  began 
to  spell  out  in  a  loud  voice  what  follows : 

"  Two  dressing-gowns,  one  in  percale,  the  other 
in  striped  silk,  six  roubles." 

"What  does  this  mean?"  said  Pougatcheff, 
frowning. 

"  Command  him  to  read  on,"  replied  Saveliitch, 
with  perfect  calmness. 

The  Secretary  continued:  "One  uniform  in 
fine  green  cloth,  seven  roubles ;  one  pair  of  white 


144  MARIE: 


cloth  pantaloons,  five  roubles ;  twelve  shirts  of 
Holland  linen,  with  cuffs,  ten  roubles ;  one  case 
containing  a  tea-service,  two  roubles." 

"  What  nonsense  is  this  ?  "  said  Pougatcheff. 
"What  have  I  to  do  with  tea-sets  and  Holland 
cuffs?" 

Saveliitch  coughed  to  clear  his  voice,  and  began 
to  explain :  "  That,  my  lord,  deign  to  understand, 
is  the  bill  of  my  master's  goods  carried  off  by  the 
thieves." 

"  What  thieves .'' "  asked  Pougatcheff,  with  a 
terrible  air. 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  Saveliitch.  "  Thieves .''  No, 
they  were  not  thieves ;  my  tongue  slipped ;  yet 
your  boys  went  through  everything  and  carried 
off  plenty.  That  can  not  be  denied.  Do  not  be 
angry.  The  horse  has  four  legs  and  yet  he  stum- 
bles.    Command  that  he  read  to  the  end." 

"Well,  read,"  said  Pougatcheff. 

"One  Persian  blanket,  one  quilt  of  wadded 
silk,  four  roubles ;  one  pelisse  of  fox-skin,  covered 
with  red  ratine,  forty  roubles ;  one  small  touloup 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  145 

of  hare  -  skin  left  with  your  grace,  on  the  steppe, 
fifteen  roubles." 

"  What  ? "  cried  Pougatcheff,  with  flashing  eyes. 

I  must  say  I  feared  for  the  old  man,  who  was 
beginning  new  explanations,  when  the  brigand 
interrupted  him  : 

"  How  dare  you  annoy  me  with  these  trifles?" 
said  he,  snatching  the  paper  from  the  Secretary 
and  throwing  it  in  the  old  man's  face.  "  You 
have  been  despoiled !  old  fool !  great  harm !  You 
ought  to  thank  God  that  you  are  not  hanging  up 
there,  with  the  other  rebels,  both  you  and  your 
master.  I'll  give  you  a  hare -skin  touloup!  Do 
you  know  that  I  will  have  you  flayed  alive,  that 
touloups  may  be  made  of  you .'" 

"  As  you  please,"  replied  Saveliitch ;  "  but  I 
am  not  a  free  man,  and  I  am  responsible  for  my 
master's  goods." 

Pougatcheff",  who  was  evidently  playing  the 
magnanimous,  turned  his  head  and  set  off"  with- 
out a  word.  Alexis  and  the  other  chiefs  followed 
him.  The  whole  army  left  the  fortress  in  good 
10 


146  MARIE. 


order,  the  people  forming  an  escort.  I  stayed 
alone  on  the  square  with  Saveliitch,  who  held  in 
his  hand  the  bill  and  considered  it  with  deep 
regret.     I  could  not  help  laughing. 

"  Laugh,  my  lord,  laugh,  but  when  the  house- 
hold is  to  be  furnished  again,  we  shall  see  if  it 
be  a  laughing  matter." 

I  went  to  learn  of  Marie  Mironoff.  Accoulina 
met  me  and  told  me  a  sad  piece  of  news.  During 
the  night  a  burning  fever  had  seized  the  poor 
girl.  Accoulina  took  me  into  her  chamber.  The 
invalid  was  delirious  and  did  not  recognize  me. 
I  was  shocked  by  the  change  in  her  countenance. 
The.  position  of  this  sorrowing  orphan,  without 
defenders,  alarmed  me  as  much  as  my  inability 
to  protect  grieved  me.  Alexis,  above  all,  was 
to  be  feared.  Chief,  invested  with  the  usurp- 
er's authority,  in  the  fortress  with  this  unhappy 
girl,  he  was  capable  of  any  crime.  What  ought 
I  to  do  to  deliver  her?  To  set  out  at  once  for 
Orenbourg,  to  hasten  the  deliverance  of  Belogorsk, 
and  to  co-operate  in  it,  if  possible.     I  took  leave 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  147 

of  Father  Garasim  and  Accoulina,  recommending 
to  them  Marie,  whom  I  already  looked  upon  as 
my  wife.  I  kissed  the  young  girl's  hand,  and 
left  the  room. 

*' Adieu,  Peter  Grineff,"  said  Accoulina.  "Do 
not  forget  us.  Except  you,  Marie  has  no  support 
or  consolation."  Choked  by  emotion,  I  did  not 
reply.  Out  on  the  square,  I  stopped  an  instant 
before  the  gibbet.  With  bare  head  I  reverently 
saluted  the  loyal  dead,  and  took  the  road  to 
Orenbourg,  accompanied  by  Saveliitch,  who  would 
not  abandon  me.  Thus  plunged  in  thought,  I 
walked  on.  Hearing  horses  galloping  behind  me, 
I  turned  my  head  and  saw  a  Cossack  from  the 
fortress  leading  a  horse,  and  making  signs  to  me 
that  I  should  wait.  I  recognized  our  Corporal. 
Having  caught  up  with  us,  he  dismounted  from 
his  own  horse,  and  giving  me  the  bridle  of  the 
other,  said :  "  Our  Czar  makes  you  a  gift  of  a 
horse,  and  a  pelisse  from  his  own  shoulder.'"  To- 
the  saddle  was  tied  a  sheep-  skin  touloup-.  I  put 
it  on,  mounted   the  horse,  taking   Saveliitch  up 


148 


MARIE  : 


behind  me.  "  You  see,  my  lord,"  said  my  serf, 
"  that  my  petition  to  the  bandit  was  not  useless ! 
And  although  this  old  hack  and  this  peasant's 
touloup  are  not  worth  half  what  the  rascals  stole, 
yet  they  are  better  than  nothing.  '  A  worthless 
dog  yields  even  a  handful  of  hair."* 


X. 


THE    SIEGE. 


APPROACHING  Orenbourg,  we  saw  a  crowd 
of  convicts,  with  shaved  heads  and  faces 
disfigured  by  the  pincers  of  the  public  execu- 
tioner. At  that  time  red-hot  irons  were  applied 
to  tear  out  the  nostrils  of  the  condemned.  They 
were  working  at  the  fortifications  of  the  place 
under  the  supervision  of  the  garrison  pensioners. 
Some  carried  away  in  wheel-barrows  the  rubbish 
that  filled  the  ditch,  others  threw  up  the  earth, 
while  masons  were  examining  and  repairing  the 
walls.  The  sentry  stopped  us  at  the  gate  and 
asked   for   our   passports.     When   the    sergeant 


149 


150  MARIE. 


heard  that  we  were  from  Belogorsk  he  took  me 
at  once  to  the  General,  who  was  in  his  garden. 
I  found  him  examining  the  apple  trees,  which 
autumnal  winds  had  already  despoiled  of  their 
leaves ;  assisted  by  an  old  gardener,  he  covered 
them  carefully  with  straw.  His  face  expressed 
calmness,  good  humor  and  health.  He  seemed 
very  glad  to  see  me,  and  questioned  me  about 
the  terrible  events  I  had  witnessed.  The  old 
man  heard  me  attentively,  and  whilst  listening, 
cut  off  the  dead  branches. 

"  Poor  Mironoff! "  said  he,  when  I  had  finished 
my  story  ;  "  it  is  a  pity  ;  he  was  a  brave  officer ; 
and  Madame  Mironoff  a  kind  lady,  an  expert  in 
pickling  mushrooms.  What  has  become  of  Marie, 
the  Captain's  daughter .-'" 

"  She  is  in  the  fortress,  at  the  house  of  the 
Greek  priest." 

"Aye!  aye!  aye!"  exclaimed  the  General. 
"  That's  bad,  very  bad ;  for  it  is  impossible  to 
depend  upon  the  discipline  of  brigands." 

I  observed  that  the  fortress  of  Belogorsk  was 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  151 

not  far  off,  and  that  probably  his  Excellency 
would  send  a  detachment  of  troops  to  deliver 
the  poor  inhabitants. 

The  General  shook  his  head,  doubtfully.  "We 
shall  see  !  we  shall  see  !  there  is  plenty  of  time 
to  talk  about  it ;  come,  I  beg  you,  to  take  tea  with 
me.  To  -  night  there  will  be  a  council  of  war; 
you  can  give  us  some  precise  information  regard- 
ing this  Pougatcheff  and  his  army.  Meantime, 
go  and  rest." 

I  went  to  my  allotted  quarters,  where  I  found 
Saveliitch  already  installed.  I  awaited  impa- 
tiently the  hour  indicated,  and  the  reader  may 
believe  that  I  did  not  fail  to  be  present  at  this 
council,  which  was  to  influence  my  whole  life.  I 
found  at  the  General's  a  custom-house  officer, 
the  Director,  as  well  as  I  can  remember  a  little 
old  man,  red-faced  and  fat,  wearing  a  robe  of 
black  watered  silk.  He  questioned  me  about  the 
fate  of  Captain  Mironoff,  whom  he  called  his 
chum,  and  often  interrupted  me  by  sententious 
remarks,   which,    if    they    did    not    prove    hiiTi 


152  MARIE. 


to  be  a  man  well  versed  in  war,  showed  his 
natural  intelligence  and  shrewdness.  During 
this  time  other  guests  arrived.  When  all  had 
taken  their  places,  and  to  each  had  been  offered 
a  cup  of  tea,  the  General  carefully  stated  the 
questions  to  be  considered. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  "we  must  decide 
what  action  is  to  be  taken  against  the  rebels. 
Shall  we  act  offensively,  or  defensively  ?  Each 
of  these  ways  has  its  advantages  and  disadvan- 
tages. Offensive  war  presents  more  hope  of  a 
rapid  extermination  of  the  enemy,  but  defensive 
war  is  safer  and  offers  fewer  dangers.  Let  us 
then  take  the  vote  in  legal  order ;  that  is,  consult 
first  the  youngest  in  rank.  Ensign,"  continued 
he,  addressing  me,  "  deign  to  give  your  opinion." 

1  rose,  and  in  a  few  words  depicted  Pougatcheff 
and  his  army.  I  affirmed  that  the  usurper  was 
not  in  a  condition  to  resist  disciplined  forces. 
My  opinion  was  received  by  the  civil  service  em- 
ployes with  visible  discontent.  They  saw  nothing 
in  it  but  the  levity  of  a  young  man.     A  murmur 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  153 


arose,  and  I  heard  distinctly  the  word  "hare- 
brained "  murmured  in  a  low  voice.  The  Gen- 
eral turned  to  me  smiling,  and  said : 

"  Ensign,  the  first  votes  (the  youngest)  in  war 
councils,  are  for  offensive  measures.  Now  let  us 
continue  to  collect  the  votes.  The  College  Di- 
rector will  give  us  his  opinion.'' 

The  little  old  man  in  black  silk,  a  College  Di- 
rector, as  well  as  a  customs  officer,  swallowed 
his  third  cup  of  tea,  well  dashed  with  a  strong 
dose  of  rum,  and  hastened  to  speak : 

"  Your  Excellency,"  said  he,  "  I  think  that  we 

ought  to  act  neither  offensively  nor  defensively." 

*'  What's  that,  sir? "  said  the  General,  stupefied ; 

"military  tactics    present   no  other  means;  we 

must  act  either  offensively  or  defensively." 

"  Your  Excellency,  act  subornatively ^ 

"  Eh  !  eh  !    Your  opinion  is  judicious,"  said  the 

General;    "  subornative    acts  —  that   is    to    say, 

indirect  acts  —  are  also  admitted  by  the  science 

of  tactics,   and  we  will  profit  by  your  counsel. 

We  might  offer  for  the  rascal's  head  seventy  or 


154  MARIE. 


even  a  hundred  roubles,  to  be  taken  out  of  the 
secret  funds." 

"And  then,"  interrupted  the  man  in  silk,  "may 
I  be  a  Kirghis  ram,  instead  of  a  College  Director, 
if  the  thieves  do  not  bring  their  chief  to  you, 
chained  hand  and  foot." 

"We  can  think  about  it,"  said  the  General. 
"  But  let  us,  in  any  case,  take  some  military 
measures.  Gentlemen,  give  your  votes  in  legal 
order." 

All  the  opinions  were  contrary  to  mine.  All 
agreed,  that  it  was  better  to  stay  behind  a  strong 
stone  wall,  protected  by  cannon,  than  to  tempt 
fortune  in  the  open  field.  Finally,  when  all  the 
opinions  were  known,  the  General  shook  the  ashes 
from  his  pipe  and  pronounced  the  following  dis- 
course : 

"  Gentlemen,  I  am  of  the  Ensign's  opinion, 
for  it  is  according  to  the  science  of  military  tac- 
tics, which  always  prefers  offensive  movements 
to  defensive."  He  stopped  and  stuffed  the  to- 
bacco into  his  pipe.     I  glanced  exultingly  at  the 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  155 

civil  service  employes,  who,  with  discontented 
looks,  were  whispering  to  each  other. 

"But,  gentlemen,"  continued  he,  giving  out 
with  a  sigh  a  long  puff  of  smoke,  "  I  dare  not 
assume  the  responsibility.  I  go  with  the  majority, 
which  has  decided  that  we  await  in  this  city  the 
threatened  siege,  and  repulse  the  enemy  by  the 
power  of  artillery,  and  if  possible,  by  well- 
directed  sorties." 

The  council  broke  up.  I  could  not  but  deplore 
the  weakness  of  the  worthy  soldier,  who,  contrary 
to  his  own  convictions,  decided  to  follow  th-e 
opinion  of  ignorant  inexperience. 

Some  days  after  this  famous  council  of  war, 
Pougatcheff,  true  to  his  word,  approached  Oren- 
bourg.  From  the  top  of  the  city  walls  I  made  a 
reconnoissance  of  the  rebel  army.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  their  number  had  increased  ten -fold. 
They  had  more  artillery,  taken  from  the  small 
forts  captured  by  Pougatcheff.  Remembering 
our  council,  I  foresaw  a  long  captivity  behind  the 
walls  of  Orenbourg,  and  I  was  ready  to  cry  with 


156  MARIE. 


chagrin.  Far  from  me  the  intention  of  describing 
the  siege  of  Orenbourg,  which  belongs  to  history 
and  not  to  family  memoirs.  Suffice  it  to  say, 
that  this  siege  was  disastrous  to  the  inhabitants, 
who  had  to  suffer  hunger  and  privations  of  every 
kind.  Life  at  Orenbourg  became  insupportable. 
The  decision  of  fate  was  awaited  with  anguish. 
Food  was  scarce;  bombshells  fell  upon  the  de- 
fenseless houses  of  citizens.  The  attacks  of  Pou- 
gatchefifmade  very  little  excitement.  I  was  dying 
of  ennui.  I  had  promised  Accoulina  that  I  would 
correspond  with  her,  but  communication  was  cut 
off,  and  I  could  not  send  or  receive  a  letter  from 
Belogorsk.  My  only  pastime  consisted  in  military 
sorties.  Thanks  to  Pougatcheff  I  had  an  excel- 
lent horse,  and  I  shared  my  meagre  pittance  with 
it.  I  went  out  every  day  beyond  the  ramparts 
to  skirmish  with  Pougatcheff's  advance  guards. 
The  rebels  had  the  best  of  it ;  they  had  plenty 
of  food  and  were  well  mounted.  Our  poor  cavalry 
were  in  no  condition  to  oppose  them.  Sometimes 
our  half-starved  infantry  went  into  the  field ;  but 


A   STOKY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  157 

the  depth  of  the  snow  hindered  them  from  acting 
successfully  against  the  flying  cavalry  of  the 
enemy.  The  artillery  vainly  thundered  from  the 
ramparts,  and  in  the  field  it  could  not  advance, 
because  of  the  weakness  of  our  attenuated  horses. 
This  was  our  way  of  making  war ;  this  is  what 
the  civil  service  employes  of  Orenbourg  called 
prudence  and  foresight. 

One  day  when  we  had  routed  and  driven 
before  us  quite  a  large  troop,  I  overtook  a 
straggling  Cossack;  my  Turkish  sabre  was  up- 
lifted to  strike  him  when  he  doffed  his  cap  and 
cried  out:  "Good  day,  Peter,  how  fares  your 
health?" 

I  recognized  our  Corporal.  I  was  delighted 
to  see  him. 

"  Good  day,  Maxim,  How  long  since  you  left 
Belogorsk .? " 

"Not  long,  Peter.  I  came  yesterday.  I  have 
a  letter  for  you." 

"  Where  is  it  ?  "  I  cried,  delighted. 

"  Here,"  replied  Maxim,  putting  his  hand  in 


158  MARIE. 


his  bosom,  "  I  promised  Polacca  to  try  and  give 
it  to  you."  He  gave  me  a  folded  paper,  and  set 
off  on  a  gallop.  I  read  with  agitation  the  follow- 
ing lines : 

"  By  the  will  of  God  I  am  deprived  of  my 
parents,  and  except  you,  Peter,  I  know  of  no 
one  who  can  protect  me;  Alexis  commands  in 
place  of  my  late  father.  He  so  terrified  Father 
Garasim  that  I  was  obliged  to  go  and  live  at  our 
house,  where  I  am  cruelly  treated  by  Alexis.  He 
will  force  me  to  become  his  wife.  He  says  he 
saved  my  life  by  not  betraying  the  trick  of  pass- 
ing for  the  niece  of  Accoulina.  I  would  rather 
die  than  be  his  wife.  I  have  three  days  to 
accept  his  offer;  after  that  I  need  expect  no 
mercy  from  him.  O,  Peter!  entreat  your  Gen- 
eral to  send  us  help,  and  if  possible,  come  your- 
self. Marie  Mironoff." 

This  letter  nearly  crazed  me.  I  rushed  back 
to  the  city,  not  sparing  the  spur  to  my  ]^x)or 
horse.  A  thousand  projects  flashed  through  my 
mind  to  rescue  her.    Arrived  in  the  city,  I  hurried 


A   STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  159 

to  the  General's  and  ran  into  his  room.  He  was 
walking  up  and  down  smoking  his  meerschaum. 
Seeing  me  he  stopped,  alarmed  at  my  abrupt 
entrance. 

"Your  Excellency,  I  come  to  you,  as  to  my 
own  father;  do  not  refuse  me;  the  happiness  of 
my  life  depends  upon  it." 

"But  what  is  it  .'"said  the  General;  "what 
can  I  do  for  you  ?" 

"  Your  Excellency,  permit  me  to  take  a  battal- 
ion of  soldiers  and  half  a  hundred  Cossacks, 
to  go  and  storm  the  fortress  of  Belogorsk." 

"  Storm  the  fortress  ?  "  said  the  General. 

"  I  answer  for  the  success  of  the  attack,  only 
let  me  go." 

"  No,  young  man,"  said  he  ;  "  at  so  great  a 
distance  the  enemy  would  easily  cut  off  all  com- 
munication with  the  principal  strategic  point." 

I  was  frightened  by  his  military  wisdom,  and 
hastened  to  interrupt  him :  "  Captain  Mironoff's 
daughter  has  written  me,  begging  for  relief. 
Alexis  threatens  to  compel  her  to  be  his  wife ! " 


i6o  MARIE: 


"  Ah !  Alexis,  traitor !  If  he  fall  into  my 
hands  I  shall  try  him  in  twenty -four  hours, 
and  he  shall  be  shot  on  the  glacis  of  the  fortress ! 
meantime  patience." 

"  Patience ! "  I  cried  ;  "  in  the  interval  Marie 
will  be  compelled  to  obey  him." 

"  Oh,"  said  the  General, "  that  would  not  be  a 
misfortune  —  it  is  better  that  she  should  become 
the  wife  of  Alexis,  who  can  protect  her.  When 
■we  shall  have  shot  the  traitor,  then  she  will  find 
a  better  husband." 

"  I  would  rather  die,"  I  said  with  fury,  "  than 
yield  her  to  Alexis." 

"  I  understand  it  all  now,"  said  the  old  man. 
"  You  are,  no  doubt,  in  love  yourself  with  Marie 
Mironoff.  That's  another  thing.  Poor  boy! 
Still,  I  can  not  give  you  a  battalion  and  fifty 
Cossacks.  The  thing  is  unreasonable."  I  hung 
my  head  in  despair.  But  I  had  a  plan  of  my 
own. 


XL 


THE    REBEL   CAMP. 


T  LEFT  the  General  and  hastened  to  my 
-*-  quarters.  SaveHitch  received  me  with  his 
usual  remonstrances  :  "  What  pleasure,  my  lord, 
is  there  in  fighting  these  drunken  brigands  ?  If 
they  were  Turks  or  Swedes,  all  right ;  but  these 
sons  of  dogs " 

I  interrupted  him :     "  How  much  money  have 
I  in  all  ?  " 

"You  have  plenty,"  said  he  with  a  satisfied 
air.     "  I  knew  how  to  whisk  it  out  of  sight  of  the 
rogues."    He  drew  from  his  pocket  a  long  knitted 
purse  full  of  silver  coin. 
II  '^' 


1 62  MARIE: 


"  Saveliitch,  give  me  half  of  what  you  have 
there,  and  keep  the  rest  for  yourself.  I  am  off 
for  the  fortress  of  Belogorsk." 

"Oh,  Peter!"  said  the  old  serf,  "do  you  not 
fear  God  ?  The  roads  are  cut  off.  Have  pity 
on  your  parents  ;  wait  a  little ;  our  troops  will 
come  and  disperse  the  brigands,  and  then  you 
can  go  to  the  four  quarters  of  the  world." 

"  It  is  too  late  to  reflect.  I  must  go.  Do  not 
grieve,  Saveliitch;  I  make  you  a  present  of  that 
money.  Buy  what  you  need.  If  I  do  not 
return  in  three  days " 

"  My  dear,"  said  the  old  man,  "  I  will  go  with 
you,  were  it  on  foot.  If  you  go,  I  must  first 
lose  my  senses  before  I  will  stay  crouching 
behind  stone  walls." 

There  was  never  any  use  disputing  with  the 
old  man.  In  half  an  hour  I  was  in  the  saddle, 
Saveliitch  on  an  old,  half-  starved,  limping  rosin- 
ante,  which  a  citizen,  not  having  fodder,  had 
given  for  nothing  to  the  serf.  We  reached  the 
city   gates  ;  the  sentinels  let  us   pass,  and  we 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  163 

were  finally  out  of  Orenbourg.  Night  was  fall- 
ing. My  road  lay  before  the  town  of  Berd,  the 
headquarters  of  Pougatcheff.  This  road  was 
blocked  up  and  hidden  by  snow ;  but  across  the 
steppe  were  traces  of  horses,  renewed  from  day 
to  day,  apparently,  and  clearly  visible.  I  was 
going  at  a  gallop  ,  Saveliitch  could  scarcely  keep 
up  and  shouted,  "  Not  so  fast !  My  nag  can 
not  follow  yours."  Very  soon  we  saw  the 
lights  of  Berd.  We  were  approaching  deep 
ravines,  which  served  as  natural  fortifications  to 
the  town.  Saveliitch,  without  however  being 
left  behind,  never  ceased  his  lamentations.  I 
was  in  hopes  of  passing  safely  the  enemy's  place, 
when  I  saw  through  the  darkness  five  peasants 
armed  with  big  sticks  —  Pougatcheff's  extreme 
outpost. 

"  Qui  vive  !     Who  goes  there  ? " 

Not  knowing  the  watchword,  I  was  for  going 
on  without  answering.  But  one  of  them  seized 
my  horse's  bridle.  I  drew  my  sabre  and  struck 
the  peasant  on  the  head.    His  cap  saved  his  life ; 


1 64  MARIE: 


he  staggered  and  fell ;  the  others,  frightened,  let 
me  pass.  The  darkness,  which  was  deepening, 
might  have  saved  me  from  further  hindrance; 
when,  looking  back,  I  saw  that  Saveliitch  was 
not  with  me.  What  was  I  to  do  1  The  poor  old 
man,  with  his  lame  horse,  could  not  escape  from 
the  rascals.  I  waited  a  minute ;  then,  sure  that 
they  must  have  seized  him,  I  turned  my  horse's 
head  to  go  and  aid  him.  Approaching  the  ravine 
I  heard  voices,  and  recognized  that  of  Saveliitch. 
Hastening  my  steps,  I  was  soon  within  sight  of 
the  peasants.  They  had  dismounted  the  old 
man,  and  were  about  to  garrote  him.  They 
rushed  upon  me ;  in  an  instant  I  was  on  foot. 
Their  chief  said  I  should  be  conducted  to  the 
Czar.  I  made  no  resistance.  We  crossed  the 
ravine  to  enter  the  town,  which  was  illumi- 
nated. The  streets  were  crowded  and  noisy. 
We  were  taken  to  a  hut  on  the  corner  of  two 
streets.  There  were  some  barrels  of  wine  and  a 
cannon  near  the  door.  One  of  the  peasants 
said  :     "  Here  is  the  palace ;  we  will  announce 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  165 

you."  I  glanced  at  Saveliitch;  he  was  making 
signs  of  the  cross,  and  praying.  We  waited  a 
long  time.  At  last  the  peasant  re  -  appeared  and 
said  :  "  The  Czar  orders  the  ofificers  to  his  pres- 
ence." 

The  palace,  as  the  peasant  called  it,  was 
lighted  by  two  tallow  candles.  The  walls  were 
hung  with  gold  paper.  But  every  thing  else,  the 
benches,  the  table,  the  basin  hung  up  by  a  cord, 
the  towel  on  a  nail  in  the  wall,  the  shelf  laden 
with  earthen  vessels,  were  exactly  the  same  as 
in  any  other  cabin.  Pougatcheff,  wearing  his 
scarlet  cafetan  and  high  Cossack  cap,  with  his 
hand  on  his  hip,  sat  beneath  the  sacred  pictures 
common  to  every  Russian  abode.  Around  him 
stood  several  of  his  chiefs.  I  could  see  that  the 
arrival  of  an  officer  from  Orenbourg  had  awak- 
ened some  curiosity,  and  that  they  had  prepared 
to  receive  me  with  pomp.  Pougatcheff"  recognized 
me  at  once,  and  his  assumed  gravity  disappeared. 

"Ah !  it  is  your  lordship !  how  are  you  ?  What 
brings  you  here  ?" 


1 66  MARIE: 


I  replied  that  I  was  traveling  about  my  private 
business,  when  his  people  arrested  me. 

"  What  business  ?  "  asked  he.  I  did  not  know 
what  to  answer.  Pougatcheff  thinking  that  I 
would  not  speak  before  witnesses  gave  a  sign  to 
his  comrades  to  leave.  All  obej^ed  except  two. 
"  Speak  before  these,"  said  he ;  "  conceal  nothing 
from  them." 

I  glanced  at  these  intimates  of  the  usurper. 
One  was  an  old  man  frail  and  bent,  remarkable 
for  nothing  but  a  blue  riband  crossed  over  his 
coarse  gray  cloth  cafetan;  but  I  shall  never  forget 
his  companion.  He  was  tall,  of  powerful  build, 
and  seemed  about  forty  -  five.  A  thick  red  beard, 
piercing  gray  eyes,  a  nose  without  nostrils,  marks 
of  the  searing  irons  on  his  forehead  and  cheeks, 
gave  to  his  broad  face,  pitted  by  small  -  pox,  a 
most  fierce  expression.  He  wore  a  red  shirt,  a 
Kirghis  robe,  and  wide  Cossack  pantaloons. 
Although  wholly  pre  -  occupied  by  my  own  feel- 
ings, yet  this  company  deeply  impressed  me. 
Pougatcheff  recalled  me  to  myself  quickly. 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.         167 

"What  business  brought  you  from  Oren- 
bourg?  " 

A  bold  idea  suggested  itself  to  my  mind.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  Providence,  leading  me  a 
second  time  before  this  robber,  gave  me  the 
means  of  accomplishing  my  work.  I  decided  to 
seize  the  chance,  and  without  reflecting  on  the 
step,  I  replied : 

"I  am  on  the  way  to  the  fortress  of  Belo- 
gorsk  to  liberate  an  oppressed  orphan  there." 

Pougatcheff"'s  eyes  flashed.  "  Who  dares  to 
oppress  an  orphan  ?  Were  he  seven  feet  high, 
he  shall  not  escape  my  vengeance.  Speak, 
who  is  the  guilty  one  ?  " 

"  Alexis  ;  he  holds  in  slavery  that  same  young 
girl  whom  you  saw  at  Father  Garasim's,  and 
wants  to  force  her  to  marry  him." 

"  I  shall  give  Alexis  a  lesson  !  I'  11  teach  him 
to  oppress  my  subjects.     I  shall  hang  him." 

'  Permit  me  a  word,"  said  the  man  without 
nostrils.  "  You  were  too  hasty  giving  the  com- 
mand to  Alexis.     You  ofl"ended  the  Cossacks  by 


1 68  MARIE: 

giving  them  a  noble  as  chief;  do  not  ofifend  the 
gentlemen  by  hanging  one  of  them  on  the  first 
accusation." 

"  There  is  no  need  to  pardon  nor  pity,"  said 
the  man  with  the  blue  riband.  "  It  would  be  no 
harm  to  hang  Alexis,  nor  to  question  this  gentle- 
man. Why  does  he  visit  us  ?  If  he  does  not 
acknowledge  you  as  Czar  he  has  no  justice  to 
get  at  your  hands ;  if  he  acknowledge  you,  why 
did  he  stay  at  Orenbourg  with  your  enemies? 
Will  you  not  order  him  to  prison,  and  have  a  fire 
lighted  there  ?" 

The  old  rascal's  logic  seemed  plausible  even 
to  myself.  I  shuddered  when  I  remembered 
into  whose  hands  I  had  fallen.  Pougatcheff  saw 
my  trouble. 

"Eh!  eh!  your  lordship,"  said  he,  winking, 
"it  seems  my  field- marshal  is  right.  What  do 
you  think  ?  " 

-  The  jesting  tone  of  the  chief  restored  my 
courage.  I  replied  calmly  that  I  was  in  his 
power. 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  169 

"Well,"  said  Pougatcheff,  "tell  me  now  the 
condition  of  your  city  ? " 

"It  is,  thank  God,  in  a  good  state." 

"A  good  condition,"  repeated  the  brigand, 
"when  the  people  are  dying  of  hunger." 

The  usurper  was  right,  but  according  to  the 
duty  imposed  by  my  oath,  I  affirmed  that  it  was 
a  false  report,  and  that  the  fort  was  sufficiently 
provisioned. 

"You  see  he  deceives  you,"  interrupted  the 
man  with  the  riband.  "All  the  deserters  are 
unanimous  in  saying  that  famine  and  pestilence 
are  at  Orenbourg;  that  thistles  are  eaten  as 
dainties  there.  If  you  wish  to  hang  Alexis,  hang 
on  the  same  gibbet  this  young  fellow,  that  they 
may  be  equal." 

These  words  seemed  to  shake  the  chief.  Hap- 
pily the  other  wretch  opposed  this  view. 

"Silence,"  said  this  powerful  fellow.  "You 
think  of  nothing  but  hanging  and  strangling. 
It  becomes  you  to  play  the  hero.  To  look  at 
you,  no  one  knows  where  your  soul  is." 


170  MARIE: 

"  And  which  of  the  saints  are  you  ?  "  replied 
the  old  man, 

"  Generals,"  said  Pougatcheff,  with  dignity, 
"  an  end  to  your  quarrels.  It  would  be  no  great 
loss  if  all  the  mangy  dogs  from  Orenbourg  were 
dangling  their  legs  under  the  same  cross-beam; 
but  it  would  be  a  misfortune  if  our  own  good 
dogs  should  bite  each  other." 

Feeling  the  necessity  of  changing  the  con- 
versation, I  turned  to  Pougatcheif  with  a  smile, 
and  said : 

"  Ah  !  I  forgot  to  thank  you  for  the  horse  and 
touloup.  Without  your  aid  I  should  not  have 
reached  the  city.  I  would  have  died  from  cold 
on  the  journey."  My  trick  succeeded.  Poug- 
atcheff regained  his  good  humor. 

"The  beauty  of  debt  is  the  payment  thereof,'' 
said  he,  winking.  "Tell  me  your  story.  What 
have  you  to  do  with  the  young  girl  that  Alexis 
persecutes  .-•     Has  she  caught  your  heart,  too  ?  " 

"  She  is  my  promised  bride,"  said  I,  seeing  no 
risk  in  speaking  the  truth. 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  lyi 

"  Your  promised  bride  !  Why  did  you  not  tell 
me  sooner  ?  We  '11  marry  you,  and  be  at  your 
wedding.  Listen,  Field -marshal,"  said  he.  "We 
are  old  friends,  his  lordship  and  I.  Let  us  go  to 
supper.  To  -  morrow  we  shall  see  what  is  to  be 
done  with  him.  Night  brings  wisdom,  and  the 
morning  is  better  than  the  evening." 

I  would  gladly  have  excused  myself  from  the 
proposed  honor,  but  it  was  impossible.  Two 
Cossack  girls  covered  the  table  with  a  white 
cloth,  and  brought  bread,  soup  made  of  fish,  and 
pitchers  of  wine  and  beer.  Thus,  for  the  second 
time,  I  was  at  table  with  Pougatchefif  and  his 
terrible  companions.  The  orgie  lasted  far  into 
the  night.  Drunkenness  at  last  triumphed. 
Pougatcheff  fell  asleep  in  his  place,  and  his  com- 
panions signed  to  me  to  leave  him.  I  went  out 
with  them.  The  sentry  locked  me  up  in  a  dark 
hole,  where  I  found  Saveliitch.  He  was  so  sur- 
prised by  all  that  he  saw  and  heard,  that  he 
asked  no  questions.  Lying  in  darkness,  he  soon 
fell  asleep. 


1 7  2  MARIE  : 

The  next  morning  Pougatcheff  sent  for  me. 
Before  his  door  stood  a  kibitka,  with  three  horses 
abreast.  The  street  was  crowded.  Pougatcheff, 
whom  I  met  in  the  entry  of  his  hut,  was  dressed 
for  a  journey,  in  a  pelisse  and  Kirghis  cap.  His 
guests  of  the  previous  night  surrounded  him, 
and  wore  a  look  of  submission  which  contrasted 
strongly  with  what  I  had  seen  on  the  preceding 
evening.  Pougatcheff  bade  me  good -morning 
gayly,  and  ordered  me  to  sit  beside  him  in  the 
kibitka.     We  took  our  places, 

"  To  the  fortress  of  Belogorsk,"  said  Pougat- 
cheff to  the  robust  Tartar,  who,  standing,  drove 
his  horses.  My  heart  beat  violently.  The  Tartar 
horses  shot  off,  the  bells  tinkled,  the  kibitka  flew 
over  the  snow. 

"  Stop !  stop !  "  cried  a  voice  I  knew  too  well. 
"  O  Peter !  do  not  abandon  me  in  my  old  age,  in 
the  midst  of  the  rob " 

"  Ah,  you  old  owl !  "  said  Pougatcheff, "  sit  up 
there  in  front." 

"Thanks,  Czar,  may  God  give  you  a  long  life." 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  173 


The  horses  set  off  again.  The  people  in  the 
streets  stopped  and  bowed  low,  as  the  usurper 
passed.  Pougatcheff  saluted  right  and  left.  In 
an  instant  we  were  out  of  the  town,  taking  our 
way  over  a  well-defined  road.  I  was  silent. 
Pougatcheff  broke  in  upon  my  reverie.  "  Why  so 
silent,  my  lord  ?  "  said  he. 

"I  can  not  help  thinking,"  said  I,  "of  the 
chain  of  events.  I  am  an  officer,  a  noble, 
yesterday  at  war  with  you;  to-day  I  ride  m  the 
same  carriage  with  you,  and  all  the  happiness  of 
my  life  depends  on  you." 
"Are  you  afraid? " 

"  You  have  already  given  me  my  life  !  " 
"  You  say  truly.  You  know  how  my  fellows 
looked  upon  you;  only  to-day  they  wanted  to 
try  you  as  a  spy.  The  old  one  wanted  to  torture 
and  then  hang  you ;  but  I  would  not,  because  I 
remembered  your  glass  of  wine  and  your  tou- 
loup.  I  am  not  bloodthirsty,  as  your  friends 
say."  I  remembered  the  taking  of  our  fortress, 
but  I  did  not  contradict  him. 


174  MARIE. 


"What  do  they  say  of  me  at  Orenbourg? " 

"  It  is  said  there,  that  you  will  not  be  easily 
vanquished.  It  must  be  confessed  that  you  have 
given  us  some  work." 

"  Yes ;  I  am  a  great  warrior.  Do  you  think 
the  King  of  Prussia  is  as  strong  as  I  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  think  yourself.''  Can  you  beat 
Frederick  ?  " 

"Frederick  the  Great .>  Why  not.?  Wait  till 
I  march  to  Moscow !  " 

"You  really  intend  to  march  on  Moscow?" 

"God  knows,"  said  he,  reflecting;  "my  road 
is  narrow — my  boys  do  not  obey  —  they  are 
thieves  —  I  must  listen  —  keep  my  ears  open;  at 
the  first  reverse  they  would  save  their  own 
necks  by  my  head." 

"  Would  it  not  be  better,"  I  said,  "  to  aban- 
don them  now,  before  it  is  too  late,  and  have 
recourse  to  the  clemency  of  the  Empress?" 

He  smiled  bitterly.  "  No;  the  time  is  passed. 
I  shall  end  as  I  began.     Who  knows?" 

Our  Tartar  was    humming  a    plaintive   air; 


A    STORY    OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE. 


175 


Saveliitch,  sound  asleep,  swayed  from  side  to 
side;  our  kibitka  was  gliding  rapidly  over  the 
winter  road.  I  saw  in  the  distance  a  village 
well  known  to  my  eyes,  with  its  palisade  and 
church  spire  on  the  steep  bank  of  the  river  laik. 
A  quarter  of  an  hour  after  we  entered  the  fort- 
ress of  Belogorsk. 


176 


XII. 

MARIE. 

I  ^HE  kibitka  stopped  before  the  Command- 
-*•  ant's  house.  The  inhabitants  had  recog- 
nized the  usurper's  bells  and  equipage,  and  had 
come  out  in  crowds  to  meet  him.  Alexis,  dressed 
like  a  Cossack,  and  bearded  like  one,  helped  the 
brigand  to  descend  from  his  kibitka.  The  sight 
of  me  troubled  him,  but  soon  recovering  himself, 
he  said:  "You  are  one  of  us?"  I  turned  my 
head  away  without  replying.  My  heart  was 
wrung  when  we  entered  the  room  that  I  knew  so 
well,  where  still  upon  the  wall  hung,  like  an  epi- 
taph, the  diploma  of  the  deceased  Commandant. 
Pougatcheff  seated  himself  upon  the  same  sofa 
12  177 


1 78  MARIE. 


where  many  a  time  Ivan  Mironoff  had  dozed  to 
the  hum  of  his  wife's  voice.  Alexis'  own  hand 
presented  the  brandy  to  his  chief.  Pougatcheff 
drank  a  glass,  and  said,  pointing  to  me  :  "  Offer 
a  glass  to  his  lordship."  Alexis  approached  me, 
and  again  I  turned  my  back  upon  him.  Pougat- 
cheff asked  him  a  few  questions  about  the  con- 
dition of  the  fortress,  and  then,  in  an  unpremedi- 
tated manner,  said  :  "  Tell  me,  who  is  this  young 
girl  that  you  have  under  guard  .'*" 

Alexis  became  pale  as  death.  "  Czar,"  said 
he,  a  tremor  in  his  voice,  "  she  is  in  her  own 
room ;  she  is  not  locked  up." 

"  Take  me  to  her  room,''  said  the  usurper,  rising. 

Hesitation  was  impossible.  Alexis  led  the  way 
to  Marie's  room.  I  followed.  On  the  stairs  Alexis 
stopped :  "  Czar,  demand  of  me  what  you  will, 
but  do  not  permit  a  stranger  to  enter  my  wife's 
room." 

"You  are  married?"  I  shouted,  ready  to  tear 
him  to  pieces. 

"  Silence  ! "  interrupted  the  brigand,  "  this  is 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  179 

my  business.  And  you,"  said  he,  turning  to 
Alexis,  "do  not  be  too  officious.  Whether  she  be 
your  wife  or  not,  I  shall  take  whom  I  please  into 
her  room.     Your  lordship,  follow  me." 

At  the  door  of  the  room  Alexis  stopped  again  : 
*'  Czar,  she  has  had  a  fever  these  three  days ;  she 
is  delirious." 

"  Open,"  said  Pougatcheff. 

Alexis  fumbled  in  his  pockets,  and  at  last  said 
that  he  had  forgotten  the  key.  Pougatcheff  kicked 
the  door ;  the  lock  yielded,  the  door  opened  and 
we  entered. 

I  glanced  into  the  room,  and  nearly  fainted. 
On  the  floor,  in  the  coarse  dress  of  a  peasant, 
Marie  was  seated,  pale,  thin,  her  hair  in  disorder; 
before  her  on  the  floor  stood  a  pitcher  of  water 
covered  by  a  piece  of  bread.  Upon  seeing  me, 
she  started,  and  uttered  a  piercing  shriek.  Pou- 
gatcheff glanced  at  Alexis,  smiled  bitterly,  and 
said :     "  Your  hospital  is  in  nice  order }  " 

**  Tell  me,  my  little  dove,  why  does  your  hus- 
band punish  you  in  this  way.-*" 


i8o  MARIE. 


"  My  husband  !  he  is  not  my  husband.  I  am 
resolved  to  die  rather  than  marry  him ;  and  I 
shall  die,  if  not  soon  released." 

Pougatcheff  gave  a  furious  look  at  Alexis,  and 
said  :     ''  Do  you  dare  to  deceive  me,  knave  ?  " 

Alexis  fell  on  his  knees.  Contempt  stifled  all 
my  feelings  of  hatred  and  vengeance.  I  saw 
with  disgust,  a  gentleman  kneeling  at  the  feet  of 
a  Cossack  deserter. 

"  I  pardon  you,  this  time,"  said  the  brigand, 
"  but  remember,  your  next  fault  will  recall  this 
one."  He  turned  to  Marie,  and  said,  gently: 
"  Come  out,  my  pretty  girl,  you  are  free.  I  am 
the  Czar! " 

Marie  looked  at  him,  hid  her  face  in  her  hands 
and  fell  on  the  floor  unconscious.  She  had  no 
doubt  divined  that  he  had  caused  her  parents' 
death.  I  rushed  to  aid  her,  when  my  old  ac- 
quaintance, Polacca,  boldly  entered,  and  hastened 
to  revive  her  mistress.  Pougatcheff",  Alexis  and 
I  went  down  to  the  reception  room. 

"  Now,  your  lordship,  we   have   released   the 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  i8l 

pretty  girl,  what  say  you  ?  Shall  we  not  send 
for  Father  Garasim,  and  have  him  perform  the 
marriage  ceremony  for  his  niece  ?  If  you  like,  I 
will  be  your  father  by  proxy,  Alexis  your 
groomsman ;  then  we'll  shut  the  gates  and  make 
merry ! " 

As  I  anticipated,  Alexis,  hearing  this  speech, 
lost  his  self-control. 

"  Czar,"  said  he,  in  a  fury,  "  I  am  guilty ;  I  have 
lied  to  you,  but  Grineff  also  deceives  you.  This 
young  girl  is  not  Father  Garasim's  niece.  She  is 
Ivan  Mironoff's  daughter." 

Pougatcheff  glared  at  me.  "  What  does  this 
mean  ? "  said  he  to  me. 

"  Alexis  says  truly,"  I  replied,  firmly. 

"  You  did  not  tell  me  that,"  said  the  usurper, 
whose  face  darkened. 

"  Judge  of  it  yourself  Could  I  declare  before 
your  people  that  Marie  was  Captain  MironofTs 
daughter  ?  They  would  have  torn  her  to  pieces. 
No  one  could  have  saved  her." 

"You    are    right,"    said     Pougatcheff,     "my 


1 82  MARIE. 


drunkards  would  not  have  spared  the  child. 
Accoulina  did  well  to  deceive  them." 

"  Listen,"  I  said,  seeing  his  good  humor,  "  I 
do  not  know  your  real  name,  and  I  do  not  want 
to  know  it.  But  before  God,  I  am  ready  to  pay 
you  with  my  life,  for  what  you  have  done  for  me. 
Only,  ask  me  nothing  contrary  to  honor,  and  my 
conscience  as  a  Christian.  You  are  my  benefac- 
tor. Let  me  go  with  this  orphan,  and  we,  what- 
ever happens  to  you,  wherever  you  may  be,  we 
shall  pray  God  to  save  your  soul." 

"  Be  it  as  you  desire,"  said  he,  "  punish  to  the 
end,  or  pardon  completely,  that's  my  way.  Take 
your  promised  bride  wherever  you  choose,  and 
may  God  give  you  love  and  happiness."  He 
turned  to  Alexis,  and  ordered  him  to  write  me  a 
passport  for  all  the  forts  subject  to  his  power. 
Alexis  was  petrified  with  astonishment.  Pou- 
gatcheff  went  off  to  inspect  the  fortress ;  Alexis 
followed  him ;  I  remained. 

I  ran  up  to  Marie's  room.  The  door  was 
closed.     I  knocked. 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  183 

"Who  is  there?"  asked  Polacca. 

I  gave  my  name.  I  heard  Marie  say :  "  In 
an  instant,  Peter,  I  shall  join  you  at  Accou- 
lina's." 

Father  Garasim  and  Accoulina  came  out  to 
welcome  me.  1  was  honored  with  everything  at 
the  command  of  the  hostess,  whose  voluble 
tongue  never  ceased.  It  was  not  long  before 
Marie  entered,  quite  pale ;  she  had  laid  aside  the 
peasant's  dress,  and  was,  as  usual,  clad  in  sim- 
plicity, but  with  neatness  and  taste.  I  seized 
her  hand,  unable  to  utter  a  word.  We  were  both 
silent  from  full  hearts.  Our  hosts  left  us,  and  I 
could  now  speak  of  my  plans  for  her  safety.  It 
was  impossible  that  she  should  stay  in  a  fortress 
subject  to  Pougatcheff,  and  commanded  by  the 
infamous  Alexis.  Neither  could  she  find  refuge 
at  Orenbourg,  suffering  all  the  horrors  of  siege. 
I  proposed  that  she  should  go  to  my  father's 
country-seat.  This  surprised  her.  But  I  assured 
her  that  my  father  would  hold  it  a  duty  and  an 
honor  to  receive  the  daughter  of  a  veteran  who 


1 84  MARIE 


had  died  for  his  country.  In  conclusion,  I  said: 
*'  My  dear  Marie  ;  I  consider  thee  as  my  wife ; 
these  strange  events  have  bound  us  for  ever  to 
each  other." 

Marie  listened  with  dignity ;  she  felt  as  I 
did,  but  repeated  that  without  my  parents' 
consent  she  would  never  be  my  wife.  I  could 
not  reply  to  this  objection.  I  folded  her  to 
my  heart,  and  my  project  became  our  mutual 
resolve. 

An  hour  after,  the  Corporal  brought  me  my 
passport,  having  the  scratch  which  served  as 
Pougatcheff's  sign -manual,  and  told  me  that  the 
Czar  awaited  me.  I  found  him  ready  for  his 
journey.  To  this  man — why  not  tell  the  truth? — 
cruel  and  terrible  to  all  but  me,  I  was  drawn 
by  strong  sympathy,  I  wanted  to  snatch  him 
from  the  horde  of  robbers,  whose  chief  he  was; 
but  the  presence  of  Alexis  and  the  crowd 
around  him  prevented  any  expression  of  these 
feelings.  Our  parting  was  that  of  friends.  As 
the  horses  were  moving,  he  leaned  out  of  the 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.         185 


kibitka  and  said  to  me:     "Adieu,  again,    your 
lordship;  perhaps  we  may  meet  once  more." 

We  did  meet  again,  but  under  what  circum- 
stances ! 

I  returned  to  Father  Garasim's,  where  our 
preparations  were  soon  completed.  Our  baggage 
was  put  into  the  Commandant's  old  equipage. 
The  horses  were  harnessed.  Marie  went,  before 
setting  off,  to  visit  once  more  the  tomb  in  the 
church -yard,  and  soon  returned,  having  wept  in 
silence  over  all  that  remained  to  her  of  her 
parents.  Father  Garasim  and  Accoulina  stood 
on  the  steps.  Marie,  Polacca,  and  I  sat  in 
the  interior  of  the  kibitka.  Saveliitch  perched 
himelf  up  in  front. 

"  Adieu,  Marie,  sweet  little  dove !  Adieu, 
Peter,  our  handsome  falcon ! "  exclaimed  the 
kind  Accoulina. 

Passing  the  Commandant's  house,  I  saw 
Alexis,  whose  face  expressed  determined  hate. 


i86 


XIII. 


THE    ARREST. 


IN  two  hours  we  reached  the  neighboring 
fortress,  which  also  belonged  to  Pougatcheff. 
We  there  changed  horses.  By  the  celerity  with 
which  they  served  us,  and  the  eager  zeal  of  the 
bearded  Cossack,  whom  Pougatcheff  had  made 
Commandant,  I  perceived  that,  thanks  to  the 
talk  of  our  postilion,  I  was  supposed  to  be  a 
favorite  with  their  master.  When  we  started  off 
again,  it  was  dusk ;  we  were  drawing  near  a 
town  where,  according  to  the  bearded  Command- 
ant, there  ought  to  be  a  very  strong  detachment 

of  Pougatcheff  s  forces.     The  sentinels  stopped 

1S7 


1 88  MARIE: 

us,  and  to  the  demand:  "  Who  goes  there?  "  our 
postilion  answered  in  a  loud  voice  :  "  A  friend 
of  the  Czar,  traveling  with  his  wife." 

We  were  at  once  surrounded  by  a  detachment 
of  Russian  hussars,  who  swore  frightfully. 

*'  Come  out,"  said  a  Russian  officer,  heavily 
mustached ;  "  We'll  give  you  a  bath  !  " 

I  requested  to  be  taken  before  the  authorities. 
Perceiving  that  I  was  an  officer,  the  soldiers 
ceased  swearing,  and  the  officer  took  me  to  the 
Major's.  Saveliitch  followed,  growling  out :  "  We 
fall  from  the  fire  into  the  flame !  " 

The  kibitka  came  slowly  after  us.  In  five 
minutes  we  reached  a  small  house,  all  lighted 
up.  The  officer  left  me  under  a  strong  guard, 
and  entered  to  announce  my  capture.  He 
returned  almost  instantly,  saying  that  I  was 
ordered  to  prison,  and  her  ladyship  to  the  pres- 
ence of  the  Major. 

"  Is  he  mad  ? "  I  cried. 

"I  can  not  tell,  your  lordship.'' 

I  jumped  up  the  steps  —  the  sentinels  had  not 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  189 


time  to  stop  me  —  and  burst  into  the  room  where 
six  hussar  ofificers  were  playing  faro.  The 
Major  kept  the  bank.  I  instantly  recognized  the 
Major  as  Ivan  Zourine,  who  had  so  thoroughly 
emptied  my  purse  at  Simbirsk.  "Is  it  possible.? 
is  this  you,  Ivan  Zourine?" 

"  Halloo !  Peter ;  what  luck  ?  where  are  you 
from  ?  will  you  take  a  chance  ?  " 

"Thanks;  I  would  rather  have  some  apart- 
ments assigned  me." 

"No  need  of  apartments,  stay  with  me." 

"  I  can  not ;  I  am  not  alone." 

"  Bring  your  comrade  with  you." 

"  I  am  not  with  a  comrade;  I  am  with — a  lady." 

"A  lady!  where  did  you  fish  her  out.?"  and 
he  whistled  in  so  rollicking  a  manner,  that  the 
rest  burst  out  laughing, 

"  Well,"  said  Zourine,  "  then  you  must  have  a 
house  in  the  town.  Here,  boy !  why  do  you  not 
bring  in  Pougatcheff's  friend  ?  " 

"  What  are  you  about,"  said  I.  "  It  is  Captain 
Mironoff's  daughter      I  have  just  obtained  her 


1 90  MARIE  : 


liberty,  and  I  am  taking  her  to  my  father's,  where 
I  shall  leave  her." 

"  In  the  name  of  Heaven,  what  are  you  talk- 
ing about  ?    Are  you  Pougatcheff  s  chum  ?  " 

"  I  will  tell  you  everything  later ;  first  go  and 
see  this  poor  girl,  whom  your  soldiers  have 
horribly  frightened." 

Zourine  went  out  into  the  street  to  excuse 
himself  to  Marie,  and  explain  the  mistake,  and 
ordered  the  officer  to  place  her  and  her  maid  in 
the  best  house  in  the  city.  I  stayed  with  him. 
After  supper,  as  soon  as  we  were  alone,  I  gave 
him  the  story  of  my  adventures. 

He  shook  his  [head.  "  That's  all  very  well ; 
but  why  will  you  marry  ?  As  an  officer  and  a 
comrade,  I  tell  you  marriage  is  folly  !  Now  listen 
to  me.  The  road  to  Simbirsk  has  been  swept 
clean  by  our  soldiers;  you  can  therefore  send  the 
Captain's  daughter  to  your  parents  to-morrow, 
and  remain  yourself  in  my  detachment.  No  need 
to  return  to  Orenbourg;  you  might  fall  again  into 
the  hands  of  the  rebels." 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  191 


I  resolved  to  follow,  in  part,  Zourine's  advice. 
Saveliitch  came  to  prepare  my  room  for  the  night. 
I  told  him  to  be  ready  to  set  out  in  the  morning 
with  Marie. 

"  Who  will  attend  you,  my  lord  ?" 

"  My  old  friend,"  said  I,  trying  to  soften  him, 
"  I  do  not  need  a  servant  here,  and  in  serving 
Marie,  you  serve  me,  for  I  shall  marry  her  as 
soon  as  the  war  is  over." 

"  Marry ! "  repeated  he,  with  his  hands  crossed, 
and  a  look  of  inexpressible  blankness,  "the child 
wants  to  marry  !     What  will  your  parents  say  ?  " 

"  They  will,  no  doubt,  consent  as  soon  as  they 
know  Marie.  You  will  intercede  for  us,  will  you 
not.?" 

I  had  touched  the  old  man's  heart.  "  O  Peter! " 
said  he,  "  you  are  too  young  to  marry,  but  the 
young  lady  is  an  angel,  and  it  would  be  a  sin  to 
let  the  chance  slip.     I  will  do  as  you  desire." 

The  next  day  I  made  known  my  plans  to 
Marie.  As  Zourine's  detachment  was  to  leave 
the  city  that  same  day,  delay  was  impossible.     I 


192  MARIE: 

confided  Marie  to  my  dear  old  Saveliitch,  and 
gave  him  a  letter  for  my  father.  Marie,  in 
tears,  took  leave  of  me.  I  did  not  dare  to 
speak,  lest  the  bystanders  should  observe  my 
feelings. 

It  was  the  end  of  February;  Winter,  which 
had  rendered  manoeuvering  difficult  was  now  at 
a  close,  and  our  generals  were  preparing  for  a 
combined  campaign.  At  the  approach  of  our 
troops,  revolted  villages  returned  to  their  duty, 
while  Prince  Galitzin  defeated  the  usurper,  and 
raised  the  seige  of  Orenbourg,  which  was  the 
death-blow  to  the  rebellion.  We  heard  of  Pou- 
gatcheff  in  the  Ural  regions,  and  on  the  way  to 
Moscow.  But  he  was  captured.  The  war  was 
over.  Zourine  received  orders  to  return  his 
troops  to  their  posts.  I  jumped  about  the  room 
like  a  boy.  Zourine  shrugged  his  shoulders, 
and  said :  "  Wait  till  you  are  married,  and  see 
how  foolish  you  are !  " 

I  had  leave  of  absence.  In  a  few  days  I  would 
be  at  home  and  united  to  Marie.     One  day  Zou- 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  193 

line  came  into  my  room  with  a  paper  in  his  hand, 
and  sent  away  the  servant. 

"  What's  the  matter  ? "  said  I. 

"  A  slight  annoyance,"  he  answered,  handing 
me  the  paper.     "Read." 

It  was  a  confidential  order  addressed  to  all  the 
chiefs  of  detachments  to  arrest  me,  and  send 
me  under  guard  to  Khasan  before  the  Com- 
mission of  Inquiry,  created  to  give  information 
against  Pougatcheff  and  his  accomplices.  The 
paper  fell  from  my  hands. 

"  Do  not  be  cast  down,"  said  Zourine,  "but  set 
out  at  once." 

My  conscience  was  easy,  but  the  delay !  It 
would  be  months,  perhaps,  before  I  could  get 
through  the  Commission.  Zourine  bade  me  an 
affectionate  adieu.  I  mounted  the  telega  (Sum- 
mer carriage),  two  hussars  with  drawn  swords 
beside,  and  took  the  road  to  Khasan. 


13 


194 


XIV. 


THE    SENTENCE. 


I  HAD  no  doubt  that  I  was  arrested  for  having 
left  the  fortress  of  Orenbourg  without  leave, 
and  felt  sure  that  I  could  exculpate  myself.  Not 
only  were  we  not  forbidden,  but  on  the  contrary, 
we  were  encouraged  to  make  forays  against  the 
enemy.  My  friendly  relations  with  Pougatcheff, 
however,  wore  a  suspicious  look. 

Arriving  at  Khasan,  I  found  the  city  almost 
reduced  to  ashes.  Along  the  streets  there  were 
heaps  of  calcined  material  or  unroofed  walls  of 
houses  —  a  proof  that  Pougatcheff  had  been 
there.     The   fortress   was  intact.     I   was   taken 

195 


196  MARIE: 


there  and  delivered  to  the  officer  on  duty.  He 
ordered  the  blacksmith  to  rivet  securely  iron 
shackles  on  my  feet.  I  was  then  consigned  to  a 
small,  dark  dungeon,  lighted  only  by  a  loop-hole, 
barred  with  iron.  This  did  not  presage  anything 
good,  yet  I  did  not  lose  courage ;  for,  having 
tasted  the  delight  of  prayer,  offered  by  a  heart 
full  of  anguish,  I  fell  asleep,  without  a  thought 
for  the  morrow.  The  next  morning  I  was  taken 
before  the  Commission.  Two  soldiers  crossed 
the  yard  with  me,  to  the  Commandant's  dwelling. 
Stopping  in  the  ante  -  chamber,  they  let  me 
proceed  alone  to  the  interior. 

I  entered  quite  a  spacious  room.  At  a  table, 
covered  with  papers,  sat  two  personages,  —  a 
General  advanced  in  years,  of  stern  aspect,  and 
a  young  officer  of  the  Guards,  of  easy  and  agree- 
able manners.  Near  the  window,  at  another 
table,  a  secretary,  pen  on  ear,  bending  over  a 
paper,  was  ready  to  take  my  deposition. 

The  interrogation  began  :  "  Your  name  and 
profession.'"     The  General  asked  if  I  was  the 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  197 


son  of  Andrew  Grineff,  and  upon  my  replying 
in  the  affirmative,  exclaimed  :  "  It  is  a  pity  so 
honorable  a  man  should  have  a  son  so  unworthy 
of  him ! " 

I  replied  that  I  hoped  to  refute  all  charges 
against  me,  by  a  sincere  avowal  of  the  truth. 
My  assurance  displeased  him. 

"You  are  a  bold  fellow,"  said  he,  frowning; 
"but  we  have  seen  others  like  you." 

The  young  officer  asked  how,  and  for  what 
purpose  I  had  entered  the  rebel  service. 

I  replied  indignantly,  that  being  an  officer  and 
a  noble,  I  was  incapable  of  enlisting  in  the 
usurper's  army,  and  had  never  served  him  in  any 
way. 

"  How  is  it,"  said  my  judge,  "  that  the  '  officer 
and  noble'  is  the  only  one  spared  by  Pougat- 
cheff?  How  is  it  that  the  'officer  and  noble ' 
received  presents  from  the  chief  rebel,  of  a 
horse  and  a  pelisse.''  Upon  what  is  this  intimacy 
founded,  if  not  on  treason,  or  at  least  unpardon- 
able cowardice  }  ' ' 


198  MARIE: 


The  words  wounded  me,  and  I  undertook  with 
warmth  my  own  defense,  finally  invoking  the 
name  of  my  General  who  could  testify  to  my  zeal 
during  the  siege  of  Orenbourg.  The  severe  old 
man  took  from  the  table  an  open  letter,  and 
read  : 

*  *  *  "  With  regard  to  Ensign  Grinefif,  I 
have  the  honor  to  declare,  that  he  was  in  the 
service  at  Orenbourg  from  the  month  of  October, 
1773,  till  the  following  February.  Since  then, 
he  has  not  presented  himself."     *     *     * 

Here  the  General  said  harshly  :  "  What  can 
you  say  now  to  justify  your  conduct?" 

My  judges  had  listened  with  interest  and  even 
kindness,  to  the  recital  of  my  acquaintance  with 
the  usurper,  from  the  meeting  in  the  snowdrift  to 
the  taking  of  Belogorsk,  where  he  gave  me  my 
life  through  gratitude.  I  was  going  to  continue 
my  defense,  by  relating  frankly  my  relations  with 
Marie,  and  her  rescue.  But  if  I  spoke  of  her 
the  Commission  would  force  her  to  appear,  and 
her  name  would  become  the  theme  of  no  very 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.         199 


delicate  remarks  by  the  interrogated  witnesses. 
These  thoughts  so  troubled  me  that  I  stammered, 
and  at  last  was  silent. 

The  judges  were  prejudiced  against  me  by  my 
evident  confusion.  The  young  Guardsman 
asked  that  I  should  be  confronted  by  my  chief 
accuser.  Some  minutes  later  the  clank  of  iron 
fetters  resounded,  and  Alexis  entered. 

He  was  pale  and  thin.  His  hair,  formerly 
black  as  a  raven's  wing,  was  turning  gray.  He 
repeated  his  accusation  in  a  weak  but  decided 
tone. 

According  to  him,  I  was  Pougatcheff's  spy.  I 
heard  him  to  the  end  in  silence,  and  rejoiced  at 
one  thing:  he  never  pronounced  the  name  of 
Marie  Mironoff.  Was  it  that  his  self-  love 
smarted  from  her  contemptuous  rejection  of 
him .''  or  was  there  in  his  heart  a  spark  of  that 
same  feeling  which  made  me  also  silent  on  that 
point  ?  This  confirmed  me  in  my  resolution, 
and  when  asked  what  I  had  to  answer  to  the 
charges  of  Alexis,  I  merely  said  that  I  held  to 


2  00  MARIE: 


my  first  declaration,  and  had  nothing  more  to 
add. 

The  General  remanded  us  to  prison.  I  looked 
at  Alexis.  He  smiled  with  satisfied  hate,  raised 
up  his  shackles  to  hasten  his  pace  and  pass  be- 
fore me.  I  had  no  further  examination.  I  was 
not  an  eye  -  witness  of  what  remains  to  be  told 
the  reader ;  but  I  have  so  often  heard  the  story, 
that  the  minutest  particulars  are  engraved  on 
my  memory. 

Marie  was  received  by  my  parents  with  the 
cordial  courtesy  which  distinguished  the  pre- 
ceding generation.  They  became  very  much  at- 
tached to  her,  and  my  father  no  longer  considered 
ray  love  a  folly.  The  news  of  my  arrest  was  a 
fearful  blow ;  but  Marie  and  Saveliitch  had  so 
frankly  told  the  origin  of  my  connection  with 
Pougatcheff,  that  the  news  did  not  seem  grave. 
My  father  could  not  be  persuaded  that  I  would 
take  part  in  an  infamous  revolt,  whose  object 
was  the  subversion  of  the  throne  and  the  extinc- 
tion of  the  nobility.    So  better  news  was  expected. 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.         20 1 


and  several  weeks  passed,  when  at  last  a  letter 

came   from  our  relative  Prince   B .      After 

the  usual  compliments,  he  told  my  father  that 
the  suspicions  of  my  complicity  in  the  rebel 
plots  were  only  too  well  founded,  as  had  been 
proved,  —  that  an  exemplary  execution  might 
have  been  my  fate,  were  it  not  that  the  Empress, 
out  of  consideration  for  the  father's  white  hair 
and  loyal  services,  had  commuted  the  sentence 
of  the  criminal  son.  She  had  exiled  him  for 
life  to  the  depths  of  Siberia ! 

The  blow  nearly  killed  my  father.  His  firm- 
ness gave  way,  and  his  usually  silent  sorrow 
burst  into  bitter  plaints  :  "  What !  my  son  plot- 
ting with  Pougatcheff !  The  Empress  gives  him 
his  life  i  Execution  is  not  the  worst  thing  in  the 
world  !  My  grandfather  died  on  the  scaffold  in 
defense  of  his  convictions !  But,  that  a  noble 
should  betray  his  oath,  unite  with  bandits, 
knaves  and  revolted  slaves  !  shame !  shame  for- 
ever on  our  race  !  " 

Frightened  by  his  despair,  my  mother  did  not 


202  MARIE  : 


dare  to  show  her  grief,  and  Marie  was  more  des- 
olate than  they.  Persuaded  that  I  could  justify 
myself  if  I  chose,  she  divined  the  motive  of  my 
silence,  and  believed  that  she  was  the  cause  of 
my  suffering. 

One  evening,  seated  on  his  sofa,  my  father  was 
turning  over  the  leaves  of  the  "  Courf  Almanac," 
but  his  thoughts  were  far  away,  and  the  book  did 
not  produce  its  usual  effect  upon  him.  My 
mother  was  knitting  in  silence,  and  from  time  to 
time  a  furtive  tear  dropped  upon  her  work. 
Marie,  who  was  sewing  in  the  same  room,  with- 
out any  prelude  declared  to  my  parents  that  she 
was  obliged  to  go  to  St.  Petersburg,  and  begged 
them  to  furnish  her  the  means. 

My  mother  said :  "  Why  will  you  leave  us  ?" 

Marie  replied  that  her  fate  depended  on  this 
journey ;  that  she  was  going  to  claim  the  protec- 
tion of  those  in  favor  at  Court,  as  the  daughter 
of  a  man  who  had  perished  a  victim  to  his 
loyalty. 

My  father  bowed  his  head.     A  word  which 


A   STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  203 

recalled  the  supposed  crime  of  his  son,  seemed 
a  sharp  reproach. 

"Go,"  said  he,  at  last,  with  a  sigh;  "we  will 
not  place  an  obstacle  to  your  happiness.  May 
God  give  you  an  honorable  husband  and  not  a 
traitor!  " 

He  rose  and  left  the  room.  Alone  with  my 
mother,  Marie  confided  to  her,  in  part,  the  object 
of  her  journey.  My  mother,  in  tears,  kissed  her 
and  prayed  for  the  success  of  the  project.  A 
few  days  after,  Marie,  Polacca  and  Saveliitch  left 
home. 

When  Marie  reached  Sofia,  she  learned  that 
the  Court  was  at  that  moment  in  residence  at 
the  summer  palace  of  TzarskoTe  -  Selo.  She  de- 
cided to  stop  there,  and  obtained  a  small  room 
at  the  post-house.  The  post -mistress  came  to 
chat  with  the  new-comer.  She  told  Marie, 
pompously,  that  she  was  the  niece  of  an  official 
attached  to  the  Court  —  her  uncle  having  the 
honor  of  attending  to  the  fires  in  her  Majesty's 
abode !    Marie  soon  knew  at  what  hour  the  Em- 


204  MARIE . 


press  rose,  took  her  coffee,  and  went  on  the 
promenade ;  in  brief,  the  conversation  of  Anna 
was  like  a  page  from  the  memoirs  of  the  times, 
and  would  be  very  precious  in  our  days.  The 
two  women  went  together  to  the  Imperial  gar- 
dens, where  Anna  told  Marie  the  romance  of 
each  pathway  and  the  history  of  every  bridge 
over  the  artificial  streams.  Next  day  very  early 
Marie  returned  alone  to  the  Imperial  gardens. 
The  weather  was  superb.  The  sun  gilded  the 
linden  tops,  already  seared  by  the  Autumn  frosts. 
The  broad  lake  sparkled,  the  swans,  just  aroused, 
came  out  gravely  from  the  shore.  Marie  was 
going  to  a  charming  green  sward,  when  a  little 
dog,  of  English  blood,  came  running  to  her 
barking.  She  was  startled  ;  but  a  voice  of  rare 
refinement  said :  *'  He  will  not  bite  you ;  do  not 
be  afraid." 

A  lady  about  fifty  years  of  age  was  seated  on 
a  rustic  bench.  She  was  dressed  in  a  white 
morning- dress,  a  light  cap  and  a  mantilla.  Her 
face,  full  and  florid,  was  expressive  of  calmness 


A   STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  205 


and  seriousness.  She  was  the  first  to  speak : 
"  You  are  evidently  a  stranger  here  ?  " 

"  That  is  true,  madam.  I  arrived  from  the 
country  yesterday." 

"  You  are  with  your  parents  } " 

"No,  madam,  alone." 

"  You  are  too  young  to  travel  alone.  Are  you 
here  on  business? " 

"  My  parents  are  dead.  I  came  to  present  a 
petition  to  the  Empress." 

"You  are  an  orphan;  you  have  to  complain 
of  injustice,  or  injury  ?  " 

"  Madam,  I  came  to  ask  for  a  pardon,  not 
justice." 

"  Permit  me  a  question  :  Who  are  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  the  daughter  of  Captain  Mironoff." 

"  Of  Captain  Mironoff  ?  of  him  who  com- 
manded one  of  the  fortresses  in  the  province  of 
Orenbourg  ?" 

"The  same,  madam." 

The  lady  seemed  touched.  "  Pardon  me,  I 
am  going  to  Court.     Explain  the  object  of  your 


2o6  MARIE  : 


petition;  perhaps  I  can  aid  you."  Marie  took 
from  her  pocket  a  paper  which  she  handed  to 
the  lady,  who  read  it  attentively.  Marie,  whose 
eyes  followed  every  movement  of  her  counte- 
nance, was  alarmed  by  the  severe  expression  of 
a  face  so  calm  and  gracious  a  moment  before. 

"You  intercede  for  Grineff?"  said  the  lady, 
in  an  icy  tone.  "The  Empress  can  not  pardon 
him.  He  went  over  to  the  usurper,  not  as  an 
ignorant  believer,  but  as  a  depraved  and  danger- 
ous good-for-nothing." 

"It  is  not  true!"  exclaimed  Marie. 

"What!  not  true.^"  said  the  lady,  flushing  to 
the  eyes. 

"  Before  God,  it  is  not  true.  I  know  all.  I 
will  tell  you  all.  It  was  for  me  only  that  he 
exposed  himself  to  all  these  misfortunes.  If  he 
did  not  clear  himself  before  his  judges,  it  was 
because  he  would  not  drag  me  before  the  authori- 
ties." Marie  then  related  with  warmth  all  that 
the  reader  knows. 

"  Where  do  you  lodge  ? "  asked  the  lady,  when 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  207 

the  young  girl  had  finished  her  recital.  Upon 
hearing  that  she  was  staying  with  the  post- 
master's wife,  she  nodded,  and  said  with  a  smile : 
*'  Ah  !  I  know  her.  Adieu !  tell  no  one  of  our 
meeting.  I  hope  you  will  not  have  long  to  wait 
for  the  answer  to  your  petition." 

She  rose  and  went  away  by  a  covered  path. 
Marie  went  back  to  Anna's,  full  of  fair  hope. 
The  postmaster's  wife  was  surprised  that  Marie 
took  so  early  a  promenade,  which  might  in  Au- 
tumn, prove  injurious  to  a  young  girl's  health. 
She  brought  the  Somovar,  and  with  her  cup  of  tea 
was  going  to  relate  one  of  her  interminable  stories, 
when  a  carriage  with  the  imperial  escutcheon 
stopped  before  the  door,  A  lackey,  wearing  the 
imperial  livery,  entered  and  announced  that  her 
Majesty  deigned  to  order  to  her  presence  the 
daughter  of  Captain  Mironofif! 

"  Ah !  "  exclaimed  Anna,  "  the  Empress  orders 
you  to  Court !  How  did  she  know  you  were  with 
me?  You  can  not  present  yourself — you  do  not 
know  how  to  walk  in  courtly  fashion !     I  ought 


2o8  MARIE . 


to  go  with  you.  Shall  I  not  send  to  the  doctor's 
wife  and  get  her  yellow  dress  with  flounces,  for 
you  ?  " 

The  lackey  declared  that  he  had  orders  to  take 
Marie  alone,  just  as  she  was.  Anna  did  not  dare 
to  disobey,  and  Marie  set  out.  She  had  a  pre- 
sentiment that  her  destiny  was  now  to  be  decided. 
Her  heart  beat  violently.  In  a  few  minutes  the 
carriage  was  at  the  palace,  and  Marie,  having 
crossed  a  long  suite  of  apartments,  vacant  and 
sumptuous,  entered  the  boudoir  of  the  Empress. 
The  nobles  who  surrounded  their  sovereign 
respectfully  made  way  for  the  young  girl. 

The  Empress,  in  whom  Marie  recognized  the 
lady  of  the  garden,  said,  graciously :  "  I  am 
pleased  to  be  able  to  grant  your  prayer.  Con- 
vinced of  the  innocence  of  your  betrothed,  I 
have  arranged  everything.  Here  is  a  letter  for 
your  future  father-in-law." 

Marie,  in  tears,  fell  at  the  feet  of  the  Empress, 
who  raised  her  up  and  kissed  her,  saying : 

*'  I  know  that  you  are  not  rich ;  but  I  have  to 


A    STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  209 

acquit  myself  of  a  debt  to  the  daughter  of  a  brave 
man,  Captain  Mironoff."  Treating  Marie  with 
tenderness,  the  Empress  dismissed  her.  That 
day  Marie  set  out  for  my  father's  country- seat, 
not  having  even   glanced   at   Saint   Petersburg. 

Here  terminate  the  memoirs  of  Peter  Grineff. 
We  know  by  family  tradition  that  he  was  set  free 
about  the  end  of  the  year  1774.  We  know  too, 
that  he  was  present  at  the  execution  of  Pougat- 
cheff,  who,  recognizing  him  in  the  crowd,  gave 
him  one  last  sign  with  the  head  which,  a  mo- 
ment after,  was  shown  to  the  people,  bleeding 
and  inanimate. 

Peter  Grineff  became  the  husband  of  Marie 
Mironoff.  Their  descendants  still  live,  in  the 
Province  of  Simbirsk,  and  in  the  hereditary 
manor  is  still  shown  the  autograph  letter  of  the 
Empress  Catharine  II.  It  is  addressed  to  An- 
drew Grineff,  and  contains,  with  his  son's  justifi- 
cation, a  touching  and  beautiful  eulogium  of 
Marie,  the  Captain's  daughter. 


LAUREL-CROWNED  TALES. 

Abdallah;  or,  The  Four-Leaved  Shamrock.   By  Ed- 
OUARD  Laboulaye.     Translated  by  Mary  L.  Booth. 

Rasselas,  Prince  of  Abyssinia.    By  Samuel  Johnson. 

Raphael;  or,  Pages  of  the  Book  of  Life  at  Twenty. 
From  the  French  of  Alphonse  de  Lamartine. 

The  Vicar  of  Wakefield.    By  Oliver  Goldsmith. 

The  Epicurean.     By  Thomas  Moore. 

PiccioLA.     By  X.  B.  Saintine. 

An  Iceland  Fisherman.    By  Pierre  Loti. 

Other  volumes  in  preparation. 

Handsomely  printed  from  new  plates,  on  fine  laid  paper,  i2mo, 
cloth,  with  gilt  tops,  price  per  volume,  ^i.oo. 

In  half  calf  or  half  morocco,  $2.50. 


In  planning  this  series,  the  publishers  have  aimed  at  a  form 
which  should  combine  an  unpretentious  elegance  suited  to  the  fas- 
tidious book-lover  with  an  inexpensiveness  that  must  appeal  to  the 
most  moderate  buyer. 

It  is  the  intent  to  admit  to  the  series  only  such  tales  as  have 
for  years  or  for  generations  commended  themselves  not  only  to 
the  fastidious  and  the  critical,  but  also  to  the  great  multitude  of 
the  refined  reading  public,  —  tales,  in  short,  which  combine  purity 
and  classical  beauty  of  style  with  perennial  popularity. 


Sold  by  all  booksellers,  or  mailed,  on  receipt  of  price,  by 

A.  C.  McCLURG   &  CO.,  Publishers, 

Cor.  Wabash  Ave.  and  Madison  St.,  CuiCAGa 


SESAME    AND    LILIES. 

THREE   LECTURES   BY  JOHN    RUSKIN. 

I.  Of  Kings'  Treasures. 

II.  Of  Queens'  Gardens. 

III.  Of  the  Mystery  of  Life. 
i2mo,  201  pages,  gilt  top.     Price,  ^i.oo. 

In  half  calf  or  half  morocco,  gilt  top,  $2.75. 
In  limp  russia  or  limp  morocco,  gilt  edges,  $3.50. 


One  of  the  most  popular  as  well  as  most  valuable  of  Ruskin's 
workb  is  "  Sesame  and  Lilies,"  and  tliis  has  been  brought  out  by 
McLlurg  &  Co.  in  a  neat  and  handy  volume  of  good  print  and 
e.xcellent  paper.  The  publishers  have  wisely  inserted  in  this  volume 
Ruskin's  admirable  and  thoroughly  characteristic  preface  which  he 
prepared  for  the  new  and  revised  edition  of  his  works  in  1S71. 
The  size,  shape,  and  compactness  of  this  issue  make  it  an  admira- 
ble pocket  companion  for  desultory  reading  in  the  cars,  in  the 
woods,  or  at  the  shore.  —  Evetting  Transcript,  Boston. 

Other  editions  of  this  notable  and  popular  book  have  been 
printed,  but  none  so  tastefully  as  this.  Of  the  book  itself  it  may 
not  be  inopportune  to  say  that  it  shows  the  author  at  his  best, 
being  devoted  to  life  instead  of  art,  and  embodying  Ruskin's  ear- 
nestness and  gift  of  language  without  calling  attention  to  any  of 
his  oddities  and  hobbies.  —  Herald,  New  York. 

It  would  be  hard  to  find  a  better  book  to  put  into  the  hands  of  a 
youth  —  boy  or  girl  —  at  that  epoch  of  life  when  the  spiritual  and 
intellectual  faculties  seem  to  leap  out  with  a  bound  from  the  chrysa- 
lis of  the  animal  nature  and  determine  their  direction  for  life.  — 
Home  'Journal,  New  Vori. 

The  book  is  one  bv  all  means  to  be  commended  to  young  women 
and  young  men  who  care  for  refinement  of  character  and  purity  of 
heart  and  earnestness  of  purpo?e,  and  who  are  able  to  appreciate 
noble  thought  clothed  in  exquisite  diction  —  Evangelist,  New  York. 


Sold  by  all  booksellers,  or  mailed,  on  receipt  of  price,  by 

A.  C    McCLURG   &   CO.,  Publishers, 

Cor.  Wabash  Ave.  and  Madison  St.,  Chicago. 


THE    STORY   OF   TONTY. 

AN    HISTORICAL    ROMANCE. 

By  Mrs.  Mary  Hartwell  Catherwood. 
i2mo,  224  pages.     Price,  $1.25, 


'  The  Story  of  Tonty  "  is  eminently  a  Western  story,  beginning 
at  Montreal,  tarrying  at  Fort  Frontenac,  and  ending  at  the  old  fort 
at  Starved  Rock,  on  the  Illinois  River.  It  weaves  the  adventures 
of  the  two  great  explorers,  the  intrepid  La  Salle  and  his  faithful 
lieutenant,  Tonty,  into  a  tale  as  thrilling  and  romantic  as  the  de- 
scriptive portions  are  brilliant  and  vivid.  It  is  superbly  illustrated 
with  twenty-three  masterly  drawings  by  Mr.  Enoch  Ward. 

Such  tales  as  this  render  service  past  expression  to  the  cause  of  his- 
tory. They  weave  a  spell  in  which  old  chronicles  are  vivified  and  breathe 
out  human  life  Mrs.  Catherwood,  in  thus  bringing  out  from  the  treasure- 
houses  of  half- forgotten  historical  record  things  new  and  old,  basset  her- 
self one  of  the  worthiest  literary  tasks  of  her  generation,  and  is  showing 
herself  finely  adequate  to  its  fulfilment.  —  Tmnscri/>t,  Boston. 

A  powerful  story  by  a  writer  newly  sprung  to  fame.  .  .  .  All  the 
century  we  have  been  waiting  for  the  deft  hand  that  could  put  flesh  upon 
the  dry  bones  of  our  early  heroes.  Here  is  a  recreation  indeed.  .  .  .  One 
comes  from  the  reading  of  the  romance  with  a  quickened  interest  in  our 
early  national  history,  and  a  profound  admiration  for  the  art  that  can  so 
transport  us  to  the  dreamful  realms  where  fancy  is  monarch  of  fact.  — 
Press,  Philadelphia. 

"The  Story  of  Tonty"  is  full  of  the  atmosphere  of  its  time  It 
betrays  an  intimate  and  sympathetic  knowledge  of  the  great  age  of  ex- 
plorers, and  it  is  altogether  a  charming  piece  of  work.  —  Christian 
Union,  New   York. 

Original  in  treatment,  in  subject,  and  in  all  the  details  of  mise  en 
%:ene,  it  must  stand  unique  among  recent  romances. — News,  Chicago. 


Sold  by  all  booksellers,  or  mailed,  on  receipt  of  price,  by 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &   CO.,  Publishers, 

Cor.  Wabash  Ave.  and  Madison  St.,  Chicago. 


THE  SURGEON'S  STORIES. 

By  Z.  ToPELius,  Professor  of  History,  University  of  Finland. 
Translated  from  the  original  Swedish,  comprising  — 

Times  of  Gustaf  Adolf, 

Times  of  Battle  and  Rest, 
Times  of  Charles  XII., 

Times  of  Frederick  I., 

Times  of  Linnaeus, 

Times  of  Alchemy, 

In  cloth,  per  volume,  76  cents. 
The  same,  in  box,  per  set,  $4.50. 


These  stories  have  been  everywhere  received  with  the  greatest  favor. 
They  cover  the  most  interesting  and  exciting  periods  of  Swedish  and 
Finnish  history.  They  combine  history  and  romance,  and  the  two  are 
woven  together  in  so  skilful  and  attractive  a  manner  that  the  reader 
of  one  volume  is  rarely  satisfied  until  he  has  read  all.  Of  their  distin- 
guished author  the  Saturday  Review,  London,  says,  "  He  enjoys  the 
greatest  celebrity  among  living  Swedish  writers;"  and  R.  H.  Stoddard 
has  styled  them  "  the  most  important  and  certainly  the  most  readable 
series  of  foreign  fiction  that  has  been  translated  into  English  for  many 
years."  They  should  stand  on  the  shelves  of  every  library,  public  and 
private,  beside  the  works  of  Sir  Walter  Scott. 

The  Graphic,  New  York,  says : 

"Topelius  is  evidently  a  great  romancer,  ^  a  great  romancer  in  the 
manner  of  Walter  Scott.  At  moments  in  his  writing  there  is  positive 
inspiration,  a  truth  and  vivid  reality  that  are  startling." 

The  Sun,  Philadelphia,  says : 

"  We  would  much  prefer  teaching  a  youth  Swedish  history  from  the 
novels  of  Topelius  than  from  any  book  of  strict  historical  narrative." 

The  Standard,  Chicago,  says : 
"  The  series  as  a  whole  deserves  a  place  with  the  very  best  fiction  of 
the  present  time.  The  scenery  is  new  to  most  readers;  the  historical 
period  covered  one  of  transcendent  interest ;  the  characters,  the  incidents, 
the  narrative  style  in  each  story  are  of  the  sort  to  carry  the  reader  straight 
through,  from  beginning  to  end,  unwearied,  and  ready,  as  each  volume 
doses,  to  open  the  next  in  order." 


Sold  by  all  booksellers,  or  wailed,  on  receipt  of  price,  by 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &   CO.,  Publishers, 

Cor.  Wabash  Ave.,  and  Madison  St.,  Chicago 


T  ■ 


IFE    OF     ABRAHAM     LINCOLN, 

-I—'    By  the   Hon.  Isaac    N.    Arnold.     With   Steel 
Portrait.    Svo,  cloth,    471  pages.     Price,  Sl-5o- 

In  half  calf  or  ha'.f  morocco,  $3-50' 

It  is  decidedly  the  best  arid  most  complete  Life  of  Lincoln 
that  has  yet  appeared.  —  Contemporary  Review,  London. 

Mr.  Arnold  succeeded  to  a  singular  extent  in  assuming  the 
broad  view  and  judicious  voice  of  posterity  and  exhibiting  the 
greatest  figure  of  our  time  in  its  true  perspective.  —  The  Trib- 
ttne.  New  York. 

It  is  the  only  Life  of  Lincoln  thus  far  published  that  is  likely 
to  live,  —  the  only  one  that  has  any  serious  pretensions  to  depict 
him  with  adequate  veracity,  completeness,  and  dignity.  —  Th* 
Sun,  New  York. 

The  author  knew  Mr.  Lincoln  long  and  intimately,  and  no  one 
was  better  fitted  for  the  task  of  preparing  his  biography.  He 
has  written  with  tenderness  and  fidelity,  with  keen  discrimina- 
tion, and  with  graphic  powers  of  description  and  analysis.  —  T/u 
Interior,  Chicago. 

Mr.  Arnold's  "  Life  of  President  Lincoln  "  is  excellent  in 
almost  every  respect.  .  .  .  The  author  has  painted  a  graphic  and 
life-like  portrait  of  the  remarkable  man  who  was  called  to  decide 
on  the  destinies  of  his  country  at  the  crisis  of  its  fate.  —  Tk* 
Times,  London 

The  book  is  particularly  rich  in  incidents  connected  with  the 
early  career  of  Mr.  Lincoln  ;  and  it  is  without  exception  the 
most  satisfactory  record  of  his  life  that  has  yet  been  written. 
Readers  will  also  find  that  in  its  entirety  it  is  a  work  of  absorb- 
ing and  enduring  interest  that  will  enchain  the  attention  more 
effectually  than  any  novel.  —  Magazine  of  American  History, 

New  York. 

— • 

Sold  by  all  booksellers,  or  mailed  on  receipt  of  price,  by 

A.  C.  McCLURG   &  CO.,  Publishers, 

Cor.  Wabash  Avb.  and  Madison  St.,  CuiCAca 


BIOGRAPHIES  OF  MUSICIANS. 


LIFE    OF    LISZT      With  Portrait. 

LIFE    OF    HAYDN.     With  Portrait. 

LIFE    OF    MOZART.     With  Portrait. 
LIFE    OF    WAGNER.     With  Portrait. 

LIFE  OF  BEETHOVEN.    With  Portrait. 
Prom  the  German  of  Dr.  Louis  Nohl. 

In  cloth,  per  volume $  -75 

The  same,  in  neat  box,  per  set 3.75 

In  half  calf,  per  set x2.oo 


Of  the  '-Life  of  Liszt,"  the  Herald  (Boston)  says:  "  It  is  writ- 
ten in  great  simplicity  and  perfect  taste,  and  is  wholly  successful  in 
all  that  it  undertakes  to  portray." 

Of  the  "  Life  of  Haydn,"  the  Gazette  (Boston)  says  :  "  No  fuller 
history  of  Haydn's  career,  the  society  in  which  he  moved,  and  of 
his  personal  life  can  be  found  than  is  given  in  this  work." 

Of  the  "  Life  of  Mozart,"  the  Standard  says:  "Mozart  sup- 
plies a  fascinating  subject  for  biographical  treatment.  He  lives 
in  these  pages  somewhat  as  the  world  saw  him,  from  his  marvel- 
lous boyhood  till  his  untimely  death." 

Of  the  "  Life  of  Wagner,"  the  American  (Baltimore)  says  :  "  It 
gives  in  vigorous  outlines  those  events  of  the  life  of  the  tone  poet 
which  exercised  the  greatest  influences  upon  his  artistic  career.  .  .  . 
It  is  a  story  of  a  strange  life  devoted  to  lofty  aims." 

Of  the  "Life  of  Beethoven,"  \he^  National  Journal  of  Educa- 
tion says  :  "  Beethoven  was  great  and  noble  as  a  man,  and  his 
artistic  creations  were  in  harmony  with  his  great  nature.  The 
story  of  his  life,  outlined  in  this  volume,  is  of  the  deepest  interest." 


Sold  by  all  booksellers,  or  tnailed,  on  receipt  of  price,  by 

A.    C.    McCLURG   &    CO.,    Publishers, 

Cor.  Wabash  Ave.  and  Madison  St.,  Chicago. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


lA.' 


^ 


en 

<: 


RECD  LD-URi. 


12198S 


--1 


-■  r" 


it^      V: 


f4{^HI 


^ 


>- 

fie: 
CO 


# 


^«4/?jf 


:[ 


30m-7,'70(N8475s8) — 0-120 


•*o<:ii,\\. 


3  1158  01074  8290 


v^-- 


)i 


<c 


v,^ 


JIIVD'JO'^        ^i^iffiKVSOl--- 


'^j. 


^ 


W^^ 


.^v 


^.    C3 


uc  soiiTHrRPj  RrninNAL  library  facility 


I         AA    000  625961 s" 

_i_  ! — I  r-pi         .—3 


